


Moments Passed

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Lightning Struck [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cullen Has Issues, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Cullenlingus, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inquisitor Backstory, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Loss of Virginity, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mage Templar Relationship, Mages and Templars, Minor Fenris/Female Hawke, Mutual Pining, Ostwick Circle, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Pining, Romantic Friendship, Secret Relationship, Star-crossed, Templar Cullen, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:25:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 93,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: What if instead of being sent to Kirkwall after the Blight, Cullen ended up at the Ostwick Circle?AU exploring what would have happened if Cullen had ended up in Ostwick and met Evelyn while she was still in the Circle and he was still a Templar. Features Evelyn and Cullen as written in my main work, Eye of the Storm. Plays with canon and timeline, even the one I created in EotS. Leads into the events of DA:I.





	1. Ostwick by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help but keep thinking about what this scenario would have been like after I had Evelyn mull it over in a recent chapter of Eye of the Storm. So here, have another Evelyn/Cullen AU. Not a one shot but (hopefully) won't be overlong. May not actually follow any events of Inquisition at all considering the timeline and change in canon.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> xx,  
> L

            Cullen looked around the library and tugged gently at the collar of his armor. The Ostwick Circle was warmer than Kinloch had been, and he wasn’t used to the heat yet. He moved along the wall to the window, hoping that maybe he could catch a breeze if there was one today.

            The salty smell of the sea filled his nostrils as he approached the window, and for a moment he looked out at the ocean and forgot his problems.

            He had left Kinloch only a month before, after the Blight was ended, and he still felt like he was settling in and adjusting. It wasn’t just the heat that he had to get used to; he couldn’t quite adjust to the atmosphere of his new Circle.

            It was more relaxed, more focused on learning. The mages from noble families were able to travel home frequently and their families all wrote to them and maintained close relationships. The mages almost seemed happier, more comfortable, as if the Circle wasn’t a prison like so many others thought it was. Not to mention the fact that the Circle wasn’t currently in the midst of chaos or preparing to assist the Grey Wardens battle the Blight like the one he had just left. It was the complete opposite of Kinloch.

            He had only been there for a couple of weeks, and although he still found himself struggling with the memories from six months before, he was settling in all right. His Knight-Commander seemed fair and understanding. He avoided being alone with any of the mages and still hurried away from where they practiced their skills, but he found himself finding a small measure of peace and contentment in his days.

            He glanced away from the window and looked over his charges in the library. All was calm, still.

            His attention was caught by a young mage who entered the library clutching a book to her chest. He furrowed his brow and watched her, suddenly curious.

            She was petite, shorter than average and thin enough he almost wanted to offer her a bit of bread or pastries from the kitchen. She had long black hair that she had pulled back into a full, loose braid that hung down her back and swayed as she walked. Her skin was pale, her features soft and angular, her lips curved, full. Her large, pale eyes flitted eagerly over the shelves she stopped before. She was searching for something, but after a moment she hesitated and turned to look at where Cullen stood. She was frowning as if curious or suspicious, and he realized she must have noticed him staring at her.

            She seemed to shake herself a bit and quickly looked away from him before she placed her book back on the shelf and grabbed another. She glanced his way once more and then hurried along the shelves back toward the door. He frowned as he watched her go, curious at her skittishness.

            He paced along the wall and the shelves, looking over the mages that were sitting at the tables scattered throughout the large library. He wandered to the shelves the young mage had been at, intending to see what books she had been reading, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

            The books were about chess.

            His brows furrowed and he trailed a finger along one of the books’ bindings as he thought about her curious attitude. He was beginning to think that she hadn’t been trying to hide what she was looking at but instead was wary in response to his mere presence. He couldn’t remember having seen her before in the short amount of time since his arrival. He found it odd that she could seem so suspicious of him, and despite his own horrible memories he wondered why she seemed so wary of Templars.

 

 

            The hallways were vast, open along the walls with windows that let the sea breeze blow into the stone corridors. It was inviting, warm. Cullen found himself taking deep breaths of the salty air as he walked down the halls, intending to take up his patrols in the training grounds.

            It felt like a huge step for him, after only a few weeks at the new Circle. But he had decided he needed to get past his fears as soon as he could. He needed to be able to patrol and watch every part of the Circle, no matter what memories were conjured. No matter how much his hands trembled, he needed to get past Kinloch so that he could perform his duties.

            He was determined to succeed today, to watch the mages practice their spells and not fall into terrors similar to those that kept him up at night.

            He had to do this.

            He took a steadying breath before he exited the hall into the training courtyard, and he exhaled slowly as he saw that the grounds were sparsely populated at the moment. He was slightly relieved, knowing it would help him ease into this as he faced his fears.

            He circled around the courtyard to take his place behind the mages practicing, and he realized suddenly he recognized one of them.

            She was standing by herself, not using a practice dummy like the few other mages that were in the courtyard but instead facing a thin metal rod in the ground before her. She focused and he could hear the air crackling around her even at this distance. Lightning struck the metal rod as well as a few other places on the ground around her. She seemed to sigh and put her hands on her hips for a moment, and he stared in almost terrified awe as she focused and raised a hand, a single lightning bolt striking the metal rod.

            She was smiling to herself, he could tell, and she stepped further back from the rod. He took a few steps closer, watching her attentively. It was odd to him how fascinated he was by the way she was focusing and trying to accurately strike the rod, considering how much her magic reminded him of the cage –

            He shook himself and tried again to distract his mind with the way she was conducting her magic. She didn’t have her staff with her, instead simply trying to channel her raw energy at her target. Again she hit the metal rod and several bolts of lightning hit the ground around her, and she clenched and unclenched her hands before she turned in a circle as if shaking herself out.

            She caught sight of him as she did so, and again he noticed a change in her demeanor, a guarded look coming across her face as she looked him up and down. She turned back and looked away from him again. She shook her hands out one last time and refocused, and again a single lightning bolt struck the target.

            He chuckled despite himself and she looked over her shoulder at the sound, frowning sharply at him. He nodded a little in acknowledgment to her, and she pursed her lips and turned away from him again.

            He hadn’t noticed before, but there was something about her eyes that seemed intense, unusual, and he wondered at them. He couldn’t see them well enough from this distance, but they looked very different from any eyes he had ever seen. He watched as she finally walked to a nearby wall and picked up the staff that was leaning against it. She twirled it and stretched her shoulders, and he watched as she began to aim and channel its energy at her target. Short bursts of lightning flew from the tip of the wooden staff as she moved quickly and hurled her attacks at the metal target.

            It was a sight to behold, and somehow he only found it mildly terrifying.

            The First Enchanter was making her way through the courtyard, and she stopped beside the young mage and began speaking with her. The mage stopped her practice and stood listening eagerly to the First Enchanter as she spoke. She nodded to a few inquiries, and the older woman finally gestured to the metal rod and stood back again.

            The young mage took aim and repeated her actions from before, carefully focusing and aiming at the target. She managed to hit it three times in quick succession, and the First Enchanter readily clapped her hands and smiled, saying something softly to the young mage that Cullen couldn’t quite make out.

            She was smiling, but when she caught sight of Cullen over the First Enchanter’s shoulder she frowned again and looked away.

            She was a curiosity, that much was certain to him.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn walked down the hallway, clutching the book to her chest. She had finished it that morning, and couldn’t help but feel like it was just in time. The First Enchanter had invited her to play a game of chess again that afternoon, and she hoped she could do better than she had the last time they had played.

            She was beginning to suspect that her practice sessions with Grayson weren’t actually helping. In fact she was starting to think that he let her win. She’d been happy to discover the few books on chess within the library and had spent most of her free time over the last few days trying to improve her strategy. Hopefully that would be enough to beat First Enchanter Gabrielle.

            She briskly entered the library and hurried to the shelf to replace the book. She felt the back of her neck prickle and turned to look over her shoulder.

            There he was again.

            He was a new Templar, that much she knew for certain. She had only seen him around the Circle for the last few weeks, and she felt fairly sure he must have arrived barely over a month ago.

            He was very tall, easily towering over his charges as he walked amongst them. His hair was golden and wavy, slightly curly but brushed back as if to hide it. His cheekbones and jaw were sculpted and strong, and he had a strong dusting of dark, golden stubble covering the lower half of his face. The stubble and something about his eyes made him look a little older than he was, but she felt certain that he couldn’t be more than five or six years older than her. From this distance, though, it was hard to tell.

            Something about him made her slow in her haste to put the book back on the shelf, but she realized he had seen her staring at him and she shook her head lightly and turned back around. It was a terrible habit of hers, watching others so closely and attentively, but she couldn’t help her curiosity. She loved trying to figure out what made people tick, how they saw the world. She wanted to know everything she could, see and observe everything her unusual eyes could take in. When it came down to it, though, she always did her best to avoid looking at the Templars as much as she could.

            It seemed to make life easier and helped avoid drawing attention to herself. It allowed her to focus on her studies, to read or sketch, to practice her magic without them breathing down her neck.

            He was new though, and he didn’t seem to have picked up on the unspoken attitude regarding Evelyn that most of the Templars had. She was considered safe, she was never treated as a threat, and they let her carry on without much hassle or attention on her. She had passed her Harrowing so easily two years before at only the age of sixteen that the Templars all seemed to decide not to bother her at all. It was a welcome relief.

            But now this new Templar wouldn’t stop staring at her, and she was beginning to feel on edge.

            She noticed she was partially on edge under his close scrutiny because there was something different in his gaze. The other Templars made her blood run cold, they made her chafe and feel like running away. Their gazes were so cold, so detached, so horribly distant that she often felt like they didn’t even see her as a person. It was a large part of why she was glad they mostly left her alone.

            This Templar’s gaze though was warm, almost inviting and welcoming.

            She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

            Evelyn finished straightening the books on the shelf, and instead of looking for a new book like she intended she hurried out of the library. He was still watching her, and it was making her stomach tie in knots. It was an odd feeling though, not entirely just fear.

            She wasn’t sure what to make of any of it.

 

 

 

            “Have you seen the new Knight-Captain?” one of the mages near her whispered.

            “The tall one? He’s quite handsome,” their companion replied.

            “That may be, but Hannah passed by his room the other night and said she heard him screaming, said he sounded like he was being murdered or tortured, almost.”

            “What? And what was Hannah doing by his room anyway?”

            “Oh you know her, she’s still after Nathaniel. But anyway, she heard him screaming and crying out, and she said she ran away without waiting for Nathaniel because the sounds were so awful.”

            “I suppose it’s a good thing he got his own room since he’s the Knight-Captain. The other Templars are grouchy enough without being kept up at night by someone’s nightmares.”

            “I think I heard the Knight-Commander say he came from Kinloch, before he was here.”

            “ _Oh_. Well I guess that would explain quite a bit.”

            Evelyn frowned, frozen where she sat at the table, her spoon half-raised to her lips as she listened to the nearby conversation. After a moment they descended into gossip about Hannah and Nathaniel and she lowered her spoon again to hide how she had tensed up to eavesdrop.

            They had to mean him. He was the only new Templar who had joined them in over three months.

            She was frowning as she trailed her spoon through her soup absently, thinking hard. Night terrors? If he’d come from Kinloch, that had to mean…

            She’d heard the stories about what had happened six months ago at the Ferelden Circle Tower. It had been all anyone could talk about, the only topic of conversation in the Ostwick Circle for months. Everyone had wildly speculated on what exactly had happened, and whether or not it could happen anywhere else.

            Evelyn glanced around now, looking through the dining hall to see if he was there.

            Sure enough, she saw him at the back of the hall, sitting and eating by himself. He was tearing bread apart and dredging up the last of his soup with it, chewing as he looked up to take in his surroundings. His gaze suddenly veered her way as if he knew exactly where she was, and he stopped chewing when he saw she was looking at him over her shoulder.

            She quickly spun back around and tried to hide her embarrassment at getting caught watching him. She stared down at her half-eaten bowl of soup and suddenly found her appetite disappear as nerves flooded the pit of her belly. She sighed and pushed it away from her before she stood and hurried from the hall.

            She didn’t look toward him, but she felt certain she could feel him watching her as she left.

 

 

            “Hm, that was an unusual move, Evelyn,” the First Enchater said.

            Evelyn bit her lip and looked down at the board tentatively. She had felt so confident when she had made the move, but now she was doubting herself. The older woman was simply better at chess than she was it seemed, even after studying from books after their last match.

            She looked around the courtyard they were in and she blanched when she saw him standing against the wall nearby, not far from where she sat at all. She had been so focused on the chess match that she hadn’t looked up to see which Templar was standing nearby to watch over everyone in the courtyard. He glanced her way and she quickly returned her attention to the board as the First Enchanter mulled over her next move.

            Evelyn lost her concentration, chafing under the attention of the nearby Knight-Captain as she tried to beat Gabrielle at chess. Unfortunately she was once again unsuccessful.

            She heaved a sigh and the other woman smiled. “Practice, Evelyn, as with all things. Just like your magic, this will come to you the more you do it.”

            “I tried practicing with Grayson, but I think he’s been letting me win,” Evelyn murmured.

            The First Enchanter laughed. “I’m not surprised,” she said before she looked out across the courtyard to where the apprentices were practicing their barriers. After a moment she finally stood and gave Evelyn a parting nod. “I should go check on the lessons. Another time, Evelyn, dear.”

            Evelyn nodded and watched her mentor depart before she returned her gaze to the board. She wasn’t quite sure how she had lost so horribly.

            “You should have sacrificed your rook, when her queen was poised to take it,” she heard a deep voice say from behind her.

            She spun around and saw him watching her, the slightest crooked grin on his face. “I’m sorry?” she asked, her voice soft in her nervousness.

            “It would have set you up to push her into check,” he explained. He was looking at her almost eagerly.

            She frowned and stared at him for a moment. “You play chess?”

            He nodded, still just watching her as she looked down at the board and contemplated his advice. “You play too cautiously,” he finally added after a moment of silence.

            She gave him a small scowl. “I thought maybe if I…” but she trailed off and returned her gaze to the chess board before her.

            She was surprised when she heard his footsteps and she looked up to see him stop beside the table. He picked up a few pieces and arranged them on the board. “If you had, see -” he went through the move as he’d told her. “It would have let you do this, and then she would have been in check. From there,” he moved a few more pieces and easily set up a checkmate. “You could have won.”

            She stared at the board, then glanced at his gloved, gauntleted hands where they held one of the chess pieces. His hands almost seemed like they were shaking, and he must have seen her looking at them because he set the chess piece down and cleared his throat.

            “Thank you for the advice,” she murmured after a moment and finally looked up into his face.

            His eyes were even warmer this close up, golden amber pools that were shifting between her eyes with a mild look of surprise. She knew he had to be noticing her eyes and their unusual color, and she tried not to blush and look away. It was always an odd moment when someone first took in the lightning color of her eyes.

            “I’m – I’m the new Knight-Captain, Cullen,” he introduced himself after a moment.

            “Yes, I know,” she answered him, but she fell silent and looked back down at the table.

            He hesitated, as if waiting for her to speak. “I – what’s your – might I know your name?”

            She raised her eyes again and held his warm gaze for a moment. “Evelyn,” she finally told him.

            He gave her a slightly wider grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Evelyn. Maybe – maybe we could play chess sometime, if you need the practice.”

            Evelyn tried not to frown or show her hesitation. Instead she gave a jerky nod.

            He stood awkwardly for a moment before he finally began to turn. “I should return to my duties, I’ll – I’ll see you…well, I’ll see you around, of course.”

            She watched as he gave a jerky half-bow and nod of his head, and then walked briskly away from her. She frowned, completely unsure of what to make of his behavior.


	2. Night Patrol

            The Ostwick Circle had finally lost its ‘newness’ for him, now that a few months had passed. He knew his way around now, he was more familiar with the sight of the mages he was guarding. But his nightmares and fears had returned more intensely, and he was struggling to hide his shaking hands and anxiety during the day.

            He was sitting alone one morning in the dining hall breaking his fast when the Knight-Commander approached.

            “Ser Cullen,” he greeted and took the seat across from him.

            “Commander Halwell,” Cullen greeted with a slight frown.

            “How have you been, lately? Settled in finally?”

            “Ah – yes, yes I am.”

            Halwell nodded absently and regarded him for a moment. “And how – how has your sleep been?”

            Cullen sighed and rubbed his temples, his stomach tying in knots. “I’m sorry, did you get complaints? I thought maybe my room was far enough away -”

            “No complaints, I’m just concerned,” Halwell interrupted. “I know what you went through, Knight-Captain. It’s my duty to make sure you’re adjusting and thriving here at your new Circle.”

            Cullen swallowed hard and stared at the roll in his hand. “I’m adjusting. I’m fine.”

            Commander Halwell almost looked like he didn’t believe him but didn’t press the matter.

            “Actually, I was wondering – I heard one of the others, ah – talking about night patrol. I was curious if I could take it for a few weeks,” Cullen looked up and watched the Commander for his reaction.

            It wasn’t that he wanted to work nights, or wanted to patrol the Circle when no one else was around. He already wasn’t sleeping, though, and he thought he may as well keep himself occupied when restful slumber eluded him.

            “Yes, I suppose – if that’s what you want,” Halwell agreed and gave a small shrug. “I’m sure it will be a relief to a few of the others for a break for a time.”

            Cullen nodded and took a bite of his roll. He looked past the Commander’s shoulder and saw Evelyn walk into the dining hall. She looked around and saw him but moved to sit along one of the other walls with her back turned to him. The Knight-Commander stood and regarded Cullen for a moment before he gave a curt nod of farewell.

            Cullen returned the gesture and went back to his food. He glanced Evelyn’s way, frowning slightly as he did so. Since the day he had offered to play chess with her, they hadn’t spoken except the occasional polite greeting in passing. He had immediately chided himself for proposing that they play chess, and had done his best to keep his distance since. She was his charge; he wasn’t supposed to get to know her. He needed to remain impartial, and so he had gone back to simply watching her. He tried to shake his curious fascination with her, but he still felt his eyes and mind drawn to her every time he saw her. He couldn't make sense of it.

            She seemed to chafe under his gaze whenever she noticed it though, and frequently left the room in a hurry, often looking like she was leaving before she had intended to. He watched as sure enough she looked over her shoulder and saw him, and suddenly stood from the table and walked swiftly out of the room.

            He frowned as he observed her hasty departure. He was starting to consider asking the Knight-Commander what he knew about her, considering how jumpy she seemed around all of the Templars. It concerned him. He couldn’t help but feel a bit suspicious, though he wasn’t sure if he thought she was hiding something or was just standoffish and guarded.

 

 

            Night patrol was somehow a welcome relief. The halls were cast in moonlight and torchlight, a wonderful mix of silver and warm yellow glow cast on the stones of the corridors. The cool sea breeze came in through the large windows and helped cool him as he paced through the deserted Circle. For the first time in months, he felt himself relaxing at night. He was able to take deeper breaths, and the shaking in his hands was somehow lessened. He was incredibly tired, but he was getting used to the feeling. It was becoming his natural state.

            He passed the library, but it was unoccupied at this hour, and so he continued on to the small Chantry. As he approached he thought he heard someone within, and he wondered if one of the few Chantry Sisters who lived at the Circle was still awake. He peered into the small room, and was surprised when he saw who was there before the statue.

            It was Evelyn, kneeling and lighting a candle. Her hair was loose, cascading down her back in a long curtain of midnight that reflected almost blue where the soft moonlight pouring in from the windows fell upon it. She was barefoot, wearing a long cotton night shift and a wool shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

            He stood watching her for a moment, confused, and suddenly realized she was crying. He hesitated, caught in indecision, but his curiosity and better nature got the best of him. He couldn’t stand the thought of her crying alone, and he wanted to try to find some way to help if he could. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. She jumped and looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide in surprise at the interruption.

            “Are you – are you all right?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly. It hit him suddenly that he was alone with a mage, and he was trying to steady himself. He tried not to remember watching her train, tried not to think about the incredible power she wielded or the memories that threatened to overwhelm his mind when he pictured it.

            She wiped hastily at her cheeks and looked down and away from him. “I’m f-fine, Ser, but thank you for asking.”

            He stood behind her, awkwardly watching and wondering if there was something he could say. He flexed his hand a few times as he tried to think. “Is there – is there anything I can do? Did something h-happen?” He cursed his hesitancy and the tremor in his voice, but he couldn’t stop his nerves. He glanced around, his armor suddenly stifling. But he wasn’t quite sure if the only reason was his apprehension of being alone with a _mage_ or apprehension at being alone with _her_.

            She stared at him, as if considering. A few more tears escaped down her cheeks though and she sniffled. He felt oddly compelled to step a little closer to her. Finally she took a deep breath. “Just some bad news, Knight-Captain. There’s nothing to be done,” she sighed a little. “I was just…searching for some comfort. I’ll – I’ll be going. I’m sorry I was out of quarters past -”

            “It’s fine,” he interrupted. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be out at this hour, he hadn’t even considered telling anyone that she was. “You can stay longer, if you’d like.”

            She tensed at his words and looked up at him suspiciously. “Y-you wouldn’t tell anyone?” she frowned and looked him over. “And what – what would you…” she was still staring at him, looking as nervous as a cornered animal.

            He realized suddenly what she was too afraid to ask, what she was implying. She thought he wanted something from her in exchange for letting her stay. He took a step forward and held his hand up to reassure her, but it seemed to be the wrong move because she recoiled from him. “I’m sorry – no, no it’s not like that,” he rushed to explain. “I don’t want anything. You’re – you’re crying and praying in the Chantry, there’s nothing wrong with that. I see no reason for you to get in trouble for seeking the Maker’s comfort.”

            She was clutching her shawl more tightly around her narrow shoulders and still staring at him wide-eyed, like she didn’t trust him or his words.

            “Maker’s breath,” he sighed, muttering to himself more than her. “Is that what you think of Templars?”

            Evelyn gave him a furtive glance and shook her head a little. “I’m sorry, Ser, I just -”

            “You don’t have to call me Ser,” he interjected, despite himself. For some reason hearing her address him that way made him uncomfortable. He shuffled his feet for a moment and sighed again. “I’ll leave you to your prayers. I’m – I’m sorry if I frightened or upset you. And – I’m sorry about the news you received.”

            She stared up at him for a long moment with a curious look on her face before she nodded. “Thank you,” she murmured and she turned back to face the statue of Andraste. Her shoulders still looked tensed like she was concerned about having her back to him.

            He stood frowning for a moment longer before he remembered himself and finally left the Chantry to continue his patrols. He wandered the halls, lost in thought. He was curious what news she had received, though he didn’t think it was his place to ask. But he was more bothered by her attitude toward him, her immediate assumption that he wanted to demand a favor for not turning her in for breaking curfew. It sickened him, and he spent the rest of his patrols musing over the look in her eyes as she stared at him, completely terrified and distrusting.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn was overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions as she heard his footsteps recede from the Chantry. She sat tensed, waiting to make sure he really had departed before she glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was alone. She relaxed finally and let out the breath she had been holding.

            She stared at the candle she had lit again, but her sorrow seemed temporarily dampened because of the Knight-Captain’s interruption. She held her thin fingers out and ran them through the flames, tears still sliding down her cheeks as she did.

            _Bron_ …

            She let out a shaky sigh and tried to stifle a sob. She wasn’t sure if the Knight-Captain was the only one on night patrol, and while he had been forgiving she didn’t know if anyone else would be so understanding that she was breaking curfew. Normally she never would have dared to, but the letter she had received from her father had brought some of the worst news she could imagine.

            It was strange how after not seeing her little brother for eleven years, she could still feel so devastated by his loss. She had realized that in the back of her mind she had still thought she would return one day to help heal him, somehow. She knew that it had been a fantasy, something unlikely to ever happen. The best healers in the Free Marches had visited Bron before – he was beyond saving, they had all said so. But she had always denied that, thinking that maybe if she tried hard enough she could find a way.

            She’d never know now. He was gone.

            She pressed her fingers to her lips and bowed her head, crying harder as that realization came upon her once more.

            When her renewed tears finally began to subside she wiped her cheeks and took a deep breath. She should make it back to her quarters. It was late and she didn’t want to risk trouble. She pushed herself to her feet and tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Trying to stifle the sound of her bare feet on the stone, she raced through the small Chantry and peered out of the doors to check if the coast was clear. No one was in sight, and she began to make her way down the hallway toward the mages’ quarters.

            As she reached the door she noticed something shift in the shadows and she jumped and stilled, trying to see through the darkness. The Knight-Captain stepped out of the shadows and stood watching her, but the look on his face was odd. He almost looked like he had been checking to make sure she made it back.

            He opened his mouth to say something, but she turned the doorknob and scurried through the door before closing it quietly behind her. She crept over to her area of the quarters and crawled into her bed, pulling the sheets up tight over her shoulder.

            Her heart was racing and she tried to take steadying breaths to calm it. She hadn’t expected to see him again, and she had worried that he had changed his mind about trying to take advantage of her being out alone. His eyes always looked so kind, though, and she wondered why she was still so suspicious of him. So far he had given her no reason to be, but she’d heard too many stories about Templars, had seen too many subtle abuses of power to fully trust that he wasn’t the same as all the others.

            She lay in bed all night, her thoughts wandering too much for sleep to take her. She thought of her family, of Bron, and of the curious Knight-Captain who looked at her so eagerly yet so sadly.

 

 

 

            “It’s your turn, Evelyn,” a voice snapped her out of her reveries.

            She looked up from where she’d been staring at the wooden table and gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Grayson, I was just thinking.”

            “What about?” the other mage asked keenly. She tried not to frown at him, curious at how he leaned toward her while he waited for her answer. He was a few years older than her, but his face still held a youthful boyish quality that made him look like a lad not even close to manhood. His dark black eyes were moving over her face, and he pushed back his longer brown hair absently as he watched her.

            “My family,” she murmured and turned her attention from his face to the board to determine her next move.

            “I saw you got a letter yesterday. Are you going to go home for a visit soon?” he asked.

            “I – I don’t think so,” she sighed.

            “Well, I won’t complain since it means you'll stay here. But I think you should – you never go home, I’m sure they miss you,” he smiled.

            “No,” she demurred, but she didn’t expand on the topic. She wasn’t sure she felt like talking about this with him.

            He shook his head but thankfully dropped the subject. She made her move finally and he took only a moment before he made his. She frowned sharply when she realized he had set her up for an easy check against him.

            “Grayson,” she said slowly. “Do you let me win?”

            He raised his eyebrows and tried to hurriedly deny, but she watched his face and noticed that he was blushing. She was right; he had been.

            “Why?” she asked, interrupting his hasty denials and embarrassed chuckles.

            “I…I like how you smile when you win,” he admitted.

            Evelyn stared at him, thoroughly caught off guard. She couldn’t believe she’d been so naïve. She thought they were only friends, but she should have realized. She sighed and shook her head, looking down at the table in awkward silence.

            “I’m sorry, did I -” he began but she stood up from the table.

            “I just remembered I need to help one of the Enchanters prepare for a lesson for the apprentices,” she said lamely. She gave him a hesitant smile and hurried away through the courtyard.

            She wasn’t even sure where she was headed. Her excuse had been a lie, just a chance to get away from the uncomfortable situation. She slowed as she neared the library, contemplating hiding in the rows of books for a few hours reading. As she approached the Knight-Captain exited the library and gave a small smile when he saw her.

            “Hello,” he greeted with a nod of his head.

            She returned the nod but didn’t say anything, instead folding her arms in front of herself. She meant to continue on her way but he stopped, and seemed like he wanted to speak with her. She frowned and stopped as well, several paces away from him.

            “Are you – are you all right, this morning?” he asked, and she was surprised to see he looked genuinely concerned.

            “I suppose,” she answered, more honestly than she meant to. But after what had just happened with Grayson she felt flustered, unable to keep her guard up as well as she normally could.

            He furrowed his brows and looked over her face for a moment. “Is there still nothing I – or anyone, can do for you? You look…” But he didn’t finish his thought.

            She sighed and softly murmured a denial. “My – my younger brother passed away,” she admitted quietly.

            His eyebrows raised and for a moment he just stared at her surprised. “I’m so sorry, that’s – that’s horrible,” he finally said. He stared at her as if he didn’t know what else to say. “Have you spoken to the Knight-Commander about going home -”

            “No, and I don’t intend to,” she interrupted. She noticed he looked confused.

            “You’re not going to go home to see your family? Surely they’d like to see you, considering,” he sounded almost incredulous.

            She shrugged but didn’t offer him a reason.

            She couldn’t go home, not after all these years of not visiting, or returning letters. She still dreamt of her family’s estate every night in the Fade, and she worried that being there again in reality would hurt too much. Her place was at the Circle, and she needed to remain there. Anything else was a fantasy, an unattainable dream of home and family.

            He was still frowning at her, as if waiting for an answer. She sighed a little and looked away from him. “I should be going, I was – heading to meet the First Enchanter,” she lied again. Really all she wanted was the comfort and solitude of her bed, now.

            He gave a jerky nod. “Of course, I’m sorry I delayed you. And again – I’m sorry for your loss.”

            She gave a grateful tug of the corners of her mouth, unable to give him a full smile. He seemed to notice the gesture though and finally stood back so she could pass.

            She hurried along the corridors to her shared quarters and kicked her leather slippers off before she climbed into the comfort of her small bed. She pulled the sheets tight about her and buried her face in her pillow, crying.

            She wished she could go home.

            But it was better this way.

            Or at least, that was the lie she repeated to herself as she lay releasing her sorrow alone.


	3. By the Book

            It was surprising how fast half a year had gone by. He had settled in considerably by now, and was finally finding ways to distract himself from the memories from a year before. He frequently still took night patrol, finding the Circle more peaceful in the night than during the day. He relished the solitude he found during those quiet hours, but he pushed himself to keep watch during the day as well.

            He was still determined to overcome his trepidations and fears, and he made sure he spent time observing the training grounds. He had to endure.

            Cullen enjoyed the days when Evelyn was out training, practicing with her lightning and the thin metal rod she used as a target. There was something beautiful about her magic, once he had gotten over how terrifying it seemed at first. He watched eagerly one day as she practiced summoning a barrier around herself, admiring how the magic sprang into being around her and sparkled. It shimmered like stars, creating a half-dome before where she stood. Each time she succeeded in doing it, she smiled.

            She had spent the last few months looking thoroughly despondent after the night he caught her crying in the Chantry. Watching her smile at her successful magic was a welcome sight after the melancholy that had seemed to consume her for so long. They spoke briefly now every time they passed, mostly simple pleasantries and greetings. She didn’t seem as guarded, though she still kept her distance from him during each interaction. Still, it was a change from how cagey she had been when they first met.

            He had spoken with the Knight-Commander, asking if there was anything he should know about her. He tried to make it sound like a professional question, bringing up her seeming reluctance to visit home after receiving news of her brother’s death. Halwell had shrugged and said that she never went home, though he knew the First Enchanter tried to encourage her to frequently. She always refused, and mainly kept to herself and her studies instead.

            Halwell had mentioned too that she had had one of the easiest Harrowings of anyone he had personally seen undergo one. The Knight-Commander said that it made the Templars of Ostwick leave her alone after her show of strength and resistance against danger. As far as they could all tell, she was more interested in reading and practicing her magic than she was rebelling or causing any trouble. This confused Cullen, though, considering her flighty, skittish nature when she was around the Templars. If they left her alone, why would she be so nervous around them?

            Cullen noticed that besides himself and the First Enchanter, she hardly spoke to anyone else. He wondered at her loner nature, but then he realized that he saw a bit of his own actions in her solitude. He had been at Ostwick for half a year now, but he still hardly interacted with his fellow Templars or the mages beyond what was necessary for his duties. Halwell and Evelyn were the only ones he engaged in conversations with, and even those were brief and almost impersonal in nature.

            He finally saw her speaking with someone else one day while he was pacing the courtyard where she sometimes played chess. She was sitting at the same table as always, and a fellow mage approached her and asked to sit. She nodded, but he saw a slight frown cross her face as she looked at the man now sitting across from her. He was leaning forward as he spoke to her, and she folded her arms.

            Cullen furrowed his brows a bit and walked forward, intending to take up his watch near enough that he could hear their conversation. His curiosity got the better of him, and he wanted to see how she interacted with someone else, since it seemed to happen so rarely. Her back was turned to where he stood observing, but he could see the other man’s face as he looked across the table at her. The look in his black eyes was enthusiastic as he took in the young woman before him, and Cullen couldn’t help but wonder and wish he could see Evelyn’s face.

            “I promise I won’t let you win this time, it will be a fair challenge,” the man was saying. “I’ve missed our games, Evelyn – I’d like to see you smile again. You’ve been so sad since you heard from your family.”

            She hesitated and finally gave a small nod. “Only if you don’t throw the game, Grayson. I’m still trying to get better so I can beat the First Enchanter.”

            The man smiled eagerly and began to set up the board. “How have you been?”

            “I’ve been fine,” she answered.

            “Just fine? I just – we haven’t really spoken in weeks – months really,” Grayson prompted her. “How are your studies? Did you finally manage to master your chain lightning?”

            “I did, last week,” she answered. Cullen noticed she wasn’t elaborating on any of her answers, and left half of his questions unanswered. Instead she seemed focused on the game, not keen on engaging the man in too much conversation.

            “You’ll have to show me, I’d love to see it,” he replied. He didn’t seem put off by her reserved answers, but he was beginning to frown slightly. “Evelyn, I’m – I’m sorry if what I said, what I did made you uncomfortable.”

            “It’s fine, Grayson,” she said, and her tone sounded final.

            “Is it? You’ve been avoiding me since, and I -”

            “It’s fine,” she repeated.

            “Evelyn, I – well, I…I’ve missed you. I meant what I said, I like it when you smile, and I’d like to do what I can to make you -”

            “It’s your turn, Grayson,” she interrupted, and Cullen noticed she leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. She looked like she was trying to put distance between them. “Listen, we’re… _friends_ , Grayson. And I’m sorry I was avoiding you, but – if you’d like to go back to being friends, we can.”

            “Friends? Is that really…” Grayson trailed off and slumped back in his own chair, looking put out. “Evie, I -”

            “Please don’t call me that,” she said, a strange catch in her voice.

            “Sorry. Evelyn. I just – I don’t want to be just friends,” Grayson leaned toward her but looked around shiftily, checking to see if anyone was near enough to hear. He caught sight of where Cullen stood and cleared his throat and scooted forward to try to avoid being overheard. “Evelyn, I’m in -”

            “Grayson, no, don’t,” she interjected firmly. “I meant what I said. We’re friends. That’s all.”

            The man sat back and stared at her, a hurt look on his face. He glanced around himself unseeing for a moment before he pushed his chair back and stood. “I – I need to go.” He hurried away from her through the courtyard, not looking back.

            Evelyn seemed to take a deep breath and then she sat forward, putting her elbows on the table and her face in her hands.

            Cullen hesitated, but suddenly felt compelled. He couldn’t have stopped his feet carrying him forward if he wanted to. “You look like you need an opponent,” he suggested as he stepped beside the table.

            She jumped and looked up at him, her eyes wide. She glanced at the chess board before her and seemed to consider for a moment, biting her lip. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your duties?”

            “I have night patrol again tonight, I could use a break,” he shrugged. He gestured at the chair across from her and waited for her permission. She watched him for another moment more and then slowly nodded her consent. He gave a small smile and took his seat, trying to sit comfortably considering the amount of heavy armor he was wearing.

            She hesitantly looked at him for a moment and then began to reset the board, her thin fingers shaking slightly as she moved the pieces. When she was done she glanced up at him once and then made the first move.

            For a while, they simply focused on the game, not speaking at all. He had to keep himself from offering her advice, but he noticed that she gave him a furtive look before she placed her pieces, like she wasn’t sure it was the right move. One of the times that she did this and was about to make a bad choice, he gave her a slight shake of his head. She let go of the piece and pursed her lips, looking over the other pieces. When she reached for another, she hesitated again and looked up at him, and he gave her a small nod.

            She giggled as she moved the piece.

            His eyebrows rose before he could stop them, so surprised to hear her laugh for the first time since he’d met her that he couldn’t help but let his astonishment show. She frowned slightly at him and he chuckled. “I’m sorry, should I not offer you advice?” he asked, trying to cover his reaction to her giggling.

            “No, it’s fine, I – I’m practicing to get better, so if it helps…Besides, I would rather have honest advice than play someone who just throws the game on purpose,” she sighed. He noticed her tapping her fingers on the side of the table, as if annoyed. “When did you learn to play?”

            “I used to play with my sister,” he answered. He fell silent as he remembered that he hadn’t told Mia where he was, that he hadn’t told anyone he was leaving Ferelden. He shook himself mentally and returned his focus to his answer. “We played as children, and she used to beat me all the time. My brother and I practiced for weeks in secret, to see if we could beat her.”

            “Did you?” she asked softly.

            He smiled. “You should have seen the look on her face.”

            She smiled in return, and he realized it was one of the first real smiles he’d seen her give, especially directed at him. “You obviously enjoy playing,” she mused.

            “I…like strategy,” he admitted. “I think it makes me feel like I’m in control, like I can decide the outcome, even against someone else’s plans. I like feeling like I can control something, at least, no matter how miniscule or insignificant. If – if that makes sense,” he chuckled, a little embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to be so honest.

            She considered him for a moment and then gave a small nod as she looked down to choose her next piece. “I can understand that,” she murmured.

            “You seem to put in an awful lot of time trying to get better at chess,” he observed. “Is there any particular reason?”

            She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated her answer. “Honestly, I think it’s just been a way for me to have a goal to achieve. I like having something to strive for, a way to better myself and improve.”

            He nodded. It was a good answer, a fantastic reason. He was impressed, and gave her a crooked grin. She almost seemed like she blushed when he did.

            They fell back into silence as they continued their game, and she still looked up occasionally before her moves, waiting to see if he would encourage or discourage her choice. He still helped her silently, but he made sure that his moves remained a challenging response to her. She wanted to improve, and he wanted to help her. That didn’t mean making it easy on her.

            In the end she won, and she seemed like she understood the strategy behind her win. It was the best help he could have given her.

            Better yet, though, she gave him a broad grin when the game was over. “Thank you, Se – Cullen,” she murmured. “I appreciate it.”

            He nodded, suddenly feeling nervous and hot in his armor. It was the first time she’d addressed him by his name. He looked around the courtyard and realized he should get back to his duties. “Any time, Evelyn,” he said as he pushed his chair back. “Until then.”

            He gave her another grin and walked away, intending to resume his patrols. He didn’t look back, having to resist the urge to stare at the smile that had spread so freely across her face.

            He’d never thought anything was as beautiful as the way she had smiled and said his name. The feeling was new, and bothersome. He scolded himself as he took up his usual pacing and watching. She was his charge, and he was meant to watch her. He wasn’t supposed to get to know her, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking about how fascinating and beautiful she was. He spent the entire rest of the day chastising himself for his weak, wandering mind.

 

* * *

 

            “Oh, here, Evelyn, you received this letter,” the Enchanter passing her in the dining hall handed her one of the scrolls she held before she continued on her way.

            Evelyn frowned and stared at the seal on the scroll. It was from her father, and she felt her heart racing as she stared at it. The only other letter she’d ever received from him was the letter informing her about Bron’s passing…

            Slowly she slid a finger under the seal to break it, and she felt herself fill with dread as she slowly unrolled it.

            It was a short letter, written in a shaky hand. She almost thought there were a few tear stain marks on it, but she wasn’t able to tell them apart from her own as her eyes overflowed with tears and clouded her vision.

            Her mind went blank, her hands shaking as sobs escaped her lips. She didn’t realize she was collapsing until she felt the sharp contact of the stone on her knees as they collided with the floor, and her wrists buckled as she fell forward and caught herself with her hands. She continued to sob, unaware of anything around her, only conscious of the pain in her heart as if it had been ripped from her chest.

            It took several tries before she became aware of someone shaking her gently by her shoulders, and suddenly she realized she could hear voices around her.

            “Evelyn? Evelyn what is it?” a familiar voice was asking.

            “Evelyn, are you all right?” another familiar voice chimed in, sounding incredibly worried.

            “Evie?”

            “What is it? Is she all right?”

            She tried to lift her head, but she could still hardly see past the tears in her eyes. A few worried faces were swimming before her, leaning close as they tried to peer into hers.

            “She’s holding a letter -”

            “Here, let me.”

            She vaguely felt someone pull the scroll from her hand, and she didn’t try to resist.

            “Oh – oh dear,” she heard after a moment. She suddenly recognized the voice – it was the First Enchanter. “Oh no…we should get her somewhere safe, she shouldn’t have to deal with this here. Could you -”

            “Yes, of course.” She felt someone trying to lift her to her feet, their hands holding her arms tight. She stumbled, unable to stand steady, and she collided with heavy metal armor before her. The hands tightened on her arms. “Can you stand?”

            She shook her head, unable to reply as she continued sobbing.

            “Here, let me -” another voice chimed in.

            “No, I’ve got her,” she felt two sets of hands jostle her for a moment, and then one set was removed as if pushed aside by the other set.

            Her world lurched abruptly as she felt an arm slip beneath her knees, another cradling her shoulders. They adjusted her slightly before they turned on their heel and began to walk away. She heard other footsteps hurrying beside them, and was aware of the cold, hard armor her cheek was resting against.

            A Templar was carrying her, it had to be.

            “What did the letter say?” they asked, and she realized it was the Knight-Captain’s deep voice.

            “Her mother – her mother has…passed,” the First Enchanter replied.

            “Maker,” Cullen answered, his voice cracking slightly.

            “And only three months after her – here, bring her this way,” the First Enchanter sighed.

            Cullen navigated through a doorway and after several more steps seemed to be directed to set her down. She felt something soft like a sofa beneath her, and the Knight-Captain settled her on it before he removed his arms from under her. She rolled away from him and curled into a ball, still sobbing. She couldn’t even manage to say thank you.

            “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Gabrielle said. “Thank you for your help, Knight-Captain.”

            “Of course,” Cullen replied. “If – if you need anything, or if she does, please do not hesitate -”

            “Yes, thank you.”

            There was a pause before footsteps retreated from the room.

            “Evelyn, dear, can I get you anything?”

            She barely managed to shake her head, still so overwhelmed with sorrow she felt like her head was pounding and throbbing with the force of her sobs.

            A hand gently patted her shoulder and then pulled a blanket across her.

            She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, crying and feeling dead to the world around her.

 

 

 

            Evelyn pulled the blanket more snugly around her shoulders as she padded down the hall, her bare feet making soft slapping noises that echoed in the empty stone corridors. Her eyes felt tight and puffy, her cheeks and lips sore from how they had tensed as she cried. Her hands were shaking, but she gripped the blanket tighter to try to steady them.

            She didn’t run into anyone, but she didn’t really care even if she did. She was past worrying about curfew or breaking the rules. She had snuck out of the First Enchanter’s quarters and hurriedly made her way to the Chantry. She didn’t know why, but she felt compelled to light a candle as she had for Bron. Somehow she felt that the quiet peace of the Chantry and the statue of Andraste would soothe her, and she couldn’t resist seeking that relief.

            She reached her destination and peered cautiously through the doors. The Chantry was deserted, and she passed through the door and down the center aisle until she reached the statue. She knelt before it and took one of the candles, pulling it before her so she could light it with her magic.

            “Evelyn?”

            She gave a start and looked over her shoulder.

            Cullen was standing hesitantly in the aisle of the Chantry, looking at her with sadness and concern etched on his face.

            “I – I’m sorry,” she muttered, and she set the candle down and began to stand. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, I’ll go back -”

            “No, it’s fine. You can stay, again. I just wondered – would you like some company?” he offered softly.

            She sat back on her heels and considered him for a moment. Strangely, company didn’t sound so bad at the moment. She gave a jerky nod of permission, and he stepped closer until he was standing beside her. He knelt in front of the statue, near enough that their arms were almost brushing. She returned her focus to the candle and picked it up once more. She waved her fingers over it and lit it easily with her magic, staring into the flames for a moment before she set it back on the ground.

            She glanced sideways at Cullen to see him swallowing hard at the sight of her magic. “Oh, sorry, I -” she wasn’t even sure why she felt like apologizing. The look on his face tugged at something deep within her, though, and she felt the need to ask for forgiveness.

            “No, no it’s fine,” he assured her, but his eyes were still wide.

            They sat in slightly awkward silence for a moment before she clasped her hands before herself, trying to focus on meditating over her loss.

            “Would you – would you like to pray?” he asked softly.

            She shrugged, at a sudden loss. She almost felt like she wouldn’t mind a prayer, but her mind went blank and she couldn’t remember any suddenly.

            “O Maker, hear my cry:

            Guide me through the blackest nights.

            Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.

            Make me to rest in the warmest places,” Cullen began, folding his hands before him. She looked sideways at him for a moment but suddenly she recognized what he was chanting and she held her hands higher and rested them against her lips. She kept her gaze on him out of the corner of her eye, and he took a breath before he continued.

            “O Creator, see me kneel:

            For I walk only where You would bid me.

            Stand only in places You have blessed.

            Sing only the words You place in my throat.

            My Maker, know my heart:

            Take from me a life of sorrow.

            Lift me from a world of pain.

            Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.”

            He paused again and she smiled slightly, enjoying the calming cadence of his deep voice as he recited the lines.

            “My Creator judge me whole:

            Find me well within Your grace,” she continued, suddenly remembering the rest. “Touch me with fire that I be cleansed.

            Tell me I have sung to Your approval.

            O Maker, hear my cry:

            Seat me by Your side in death.

            Make me one within Your glory.

            And let the world once more see Your favor,” she recited. He glanced at her and gave her a tiny, crooked grin.

            “For You are the fire at the heart of the world,

            And comfort is only Yours to give,” they finished together.

            There was a few moments of peaceful silence as they looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes before they gave one another a soft smile.

            “Thank you, Cullen,” she murmured. “I think company helped.”

            He nodded and one of his hands twitched as if he was going to reach toward her but changed his mind. “I’m so sorry, for your loss. Was she – did you know she was sick?”

            Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at the candle flame for a moment. “She – she wasn’t sick. She, um, she – she took her own life.”

            Her voice was barely a whisper, and it cracked with renewed emotion.

            “Maker’s breath,” he muttered softly, but he seemed otherwise at a loss for words.

            She hung her head and tears began to stream down her cheeks once more.

            She felt the hesitation in him, his body poised with sudden, curious energy begging to be released before he suddenly seemed to give in to it.

            He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his pauldron so that she could lean into him and cry. His thumb stroked her upper arm, and he held her like that for several long moments as she succumbed to renewed sobs.

            She almost thought she imagined it, but it felt like he brushed the top of her head with his lips.

            She pushed gently against him once she had calmed herself and gave him a watery tug of a smile, unable to give him a full grin. “Thank you,” she murmured.

            “I wish I could do more,” he responded quietly.

            She gave a soft smile. “You’ve done plenty,” she assured him. “I mean it, Cullen…thank you.”

            He nodded and turned back to the statue before them. “Do you want to stay longer, or -”

            “I should head back,” she sighed. “I don’t want to get you in trouble for indulging my post-curfew wanderings.”

            He chuckled slightly. “It is no trouble.” He pushed himself to his feet and held a hand down to help her to her feet.

            She hesitated for only a moment before she accepted his hand and let him pull her to a standing position.

            “I’ll walk you back,” he offered, and gestured for her to lead the way.

            They walked side by side in silence for several minutes before she glanced his way. “You seem very…” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish her thought. She wasn’t even sure what she would finish it with. Devout? Chivalrous? Kind? Warm? Instead she shook her head. “You’re not like other Templars I’ve met,” she finally admitted, more honest than she meant to be.

            He frowned and let out a soft chuckle. “I – I’m not sure what to make of that,” he confessed.

            “Have I offended?” she peered up into his face.

            “No, no you haven’t,” he answered. “I just…I always assumed I act as a Templar should. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience.”

            She pursed her lips for a moment as she considered him. He glanced at her and gave a slightly apologetic grin. “I suppose I can see that,” she agreed. “You do seem very…by the book.”

            He chuckled and shook his head. “The same reason I like chess, I suppose. Specific rules, guidelines, strategy. Makes things make sense.”

            She nodded. “I can see that,” she mused.

            They had reached the First Enchanter’s quarters, and she stopped and turned to face him. “I appreciate you letting me – well, for helping me pray.”

            He gave her a small smile. “I was glad to. If I can do anything for you, please let me know, Evelyn.”

            She nodded, her arms folded across her chest. “Thank you, Cullen,” she looked up at him, suddenly so intrigued by his warm gaze she felt her breath catch. “G-good night.”

            She hurried through the door, moving quietly to try her best not to wake up the First Enchanter. She didn’t want to have to answer any questions at the moment, not when her mind was so befuddled with such a multitude of emotions.


	4. Almost Like Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff, because this chapter just turned into pure, pure fluff. No regrets. We'll get back to some angst in the next chapter though, fair warning. I haven't forgotten about Kinloch or that Evelyn is a mage. ;-)
> 
> xx,  
> L

            Cullen watched as she walked into the library, feeling relieved to see her. She hadn’t really been around the last few days, not after he’d had to carry her crying to the First Enchanter’s room. He hadn’t spoken to her since their shared prayer in the Chantry, and he had begun to worry about her. He had also begun to worry that he had done something wrong by comforting her, that maybe she had been avoiding him.

            When he saw her walk into the library, though, some of his doubt fled. She glanced around the room quickly, her eyes flitting about until they fell on him. She gave him a half-smile and a small nod of her head before she wandered to the shelves of books she was looking for. It was more of a greeting than he had gotten in the past, though, and he felt some of his apprehension leave him.

            He watched her disappear between some of the bookshelves, and spent his time looking over the rest of the library to watch his charges. He simply felt better seeing her out and moving about – it had been a nervous few days wondering if she was all right. The news had been unexpected, and he was still picturing the way she had collapsed in response. It had tugged at his heartstrings. The sobs had reminded him of noises from Kinloch, of the desperate begging and cries of pain and fear. He had hoped to never hear sounds like that ever again.

            He hadn’t been able to shake the memory of her sorrow, nor the feeling of her in his arms as he carried her to the First Enchanter’s room. He furrowed his brows and tried to focus on pacing along the wall, not allowing his mind to wander that way. He was bothered by how much he seemed to think about her. It wasn’t right, she was one of his charges and he needed not to think about those sorts of things in relation to her.

            But her soft voice reciting a prayer with him in front of the statue of Andraste kept playing through his mind. He smiled a bit to himself as he remembered her looking his way, and the curious manner she had as she hurried into the First Enchanter’s room after he’d escorted her to it. If he wasn’t mistaken she’d been blushing and seemed flustered. He mused over what she had said, that she thought he was different from any other Templar she’d ever met before. He felt torn between concern and pride at those words; concern for what she may have dealt with from other Templars, but pride that he was maybe helping her see that not all Templars were something to be feared.

            He didn’t want her to fear him. He wanted her to feel comfortable with him.

            He frowned as he thought that. Why did he care so much what she thought of him? She was a mage, after all. Yet she almost seemed to be helping him see mages differently, the same way he hoped to help her see Templars differently. It was curious.

            He watched as the other mage from a few days before, Grayson, walked into the library. The man looked like he was looking for something, hurrying along the bookshelves. Cullen watched him curiously, wondering at his behavior. He had also been there when Evelyn collapsed, and had tried to pull her from where Cullen was supporting her when she couldn’t stand on her own. The other man had seemed incredibly irritated that Cullen had maintained his grip on her and carried her from the room instead.

            Cullen thought back to the conversation he had overheard before they played chess, and was suddenly annoyed. He paced along the wall, intending to peer through the rows of bookshelves to check on Evelyn and see if the other mage was looking for her. He felt suddenly protective, not wanting to let the other man ruin her mood now that she had finally ventured out after her period of mourning.

            He found her a few rows away pulling large tome after large tome off the shelf, looking through the first few pages and then putting them back. She seemed to be looking for something in particular. Grayson had found her as well, and was quickly approaching from the other end of the row.

            “Evelyn, I’ve been looking for you,” he said. She turned to look at him and almost looked like she hesitated at his advance. “How are you?”

            “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” she answered, and slowly went back to browsing the shelves.

            “I’ve been worried about you,” he tried to get closer to her. “That Knight-Captain carried you off and then I didn’t see you for a few days, I just worried -”

            But Grayson suddenly looked up and saw Cullen standing along the wall at the end of the row. He scowled at him and turned his attention back to Evelyn. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else, Evelyn,” he said and he held a hand out to her.

            She looked down at it and then looked behind her, like she was confused by the sudden change in Grayson’s attitude. She caught Cullen’s eye and held his gaze for a moment before she turned back to the bookshelf. “I’m busy, I’m looking for something,” she murmured. She didn’t move, making it clear she didn’t intend to go with the other mage.

            His scowl deepened and he looked Cullen’s way one more time before he finally heaved a sigh. “I guess I’ll leave you alone, then. I’ll see you later, Evie.” And he walked away.

            She stared after him for a moment, her hand frozen on the book she had been about to pull off the shelf. She shook her head slightly and heaved an audible sigh. She pulled the book she had her hand on and rifled through the pages, her movements rife with frustration and irritation. Cullen frowned and took a few steps down the row to approach her.

            “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

            She looked up at him, but he noticed she didn’t jump like she normally did whenever he addressed her. She peered up into his face for a moment before she gave him a small nod.

            “I’m all right,” she answered quietly and closed the book she held to return it to its place. “Did I – did I thank you the other night? Everything’s a blur, I can’t remember -”

            “Yes, you did,” he gave her a reassuring smile.

            She nodded absently and pulled another book from the shelf.

            “Are you going to go home? I hadn’t seen you for a few days, I thought maybe you had -”

            But she gave him a furtive glance and shook her head. “No, I’m not.” She flipped a few pages in the book and suddenly stopped on one of the pages and ran her finger along the words. She smiled a little to herself. “Thank you, again,” she looked up at him and gave him a jerky nod. She closed the book and held it to her chest, pausing a moment like she wanted to say something else. Instead she turned and hurried down the row away from him and left the library.

            Cullen glanced at the shelf beside him but the tomes were old, some in runes, some in other languages. They looked like spell books, and he shrugged a little to himself. She must be burying herself back in her studies, he reasoned, knowing from the Knight-Commander that that was how she spent most of her time. That, at least, seemed like a return to normalcy for her, and he hoped it meant she was feeling better.

 

* * *

  

            Evelyn was sitting under the willow tree in the courtyard, her knees bent before her, a large plank of wood balanced against them. She stretched out the sheet of parchment she’d brought with her and smoothed it before she picked up her charcoal. It was a beautiful day out, and she’d decided to sit outside to sketch instead of once again sketching the view from the window of the library. She looked around the courtyard, trying to decide on a subject.

            She settled finally on the stonework of the tower rising beyond the courtyard, and the way it was silhouetted by the cliffs overlooking the sea behind it. She smiled softly to herself as she began her work, and soon she had a nice outline of her work started. She began shading, drawing sweeping lines and working at a leisurely pace to replicate the stonework before her. Her hands became covered in the black dust of the charcoal, but she didn’t care. She loved the sight of her hands dirty with her effort, with her attempts at art.

            Movement caught her attention and she looked up to see who was walking into the courtyard. A few other mages sat nearby, studying and gossiping, but otherwise the courtyard wasn’t as bustling as it normally was. She saw the Knight-Captain walking along the walls, looking over the mages as if he was intending to keep watch outside for a bit. He tugged a bit on the neck of his armor, looking like he was chafing under it. She knew that Ferelden was a colder place than Ostwick, and she wondered if he still struggled in the heat sometimes. It couldn’t be easy with the amount of armor Templars wore.

            He took his place finally along the wall, and hadn’t acted like he had noticed her yet. He looked deep in thought, his brow slightly furrowed. It had been a few weeks now since their shared prayers in the Chantry after her mother’s death, and they had spoken a few times since. He seemed to seek her out for conversation when he saw her, his eyes warm and kind as he inquired how she was doing. She no longer felt as intimidated by him, though she still felt cautious. She wasn’t sure what to make of his attitude, especially since several of the other mages claimed that he was cold and suspicious, and often glared at them. It was puzzling, since he had never been anything but considerate and reassuring to her.

            He was standing so that he was almost in profile to where she was sitting, and she suddenly got an urge to try a different subject. She flipped her parchment over and began her work, shooting him furtive glances and hoping he didn’t catch her looking at him so intently. She was lucky he was standing watch at the moment, because he wasn’t pacing and it made her sketching easier. She became absorbed in her work, enjoying shading the many pieces of armor he wore and trying to capture the thoughtful look on his face. When she reached his eyes she frowned, and stared at his face as she tried to discern the look. She began to sketch it but soon stopped and looked back up to observe him.

            She couldn’t quite capture his eyes right.

            There was always a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite figure out. It almost looked sad, lonely, haunted almost – and yet it also looked endearing, like he was entreating kindness from those he interacted with. There were times the look in his eyes broke her heart, and she couldn’t understand why.

            But for sketching, it was nearly impossible to capture. And without that look, she wasn’t quite sure she could say her portrait was doing him justice. It was so much a part of him.

            She buried herself over her work with the cloth she kept near her to try to brush away mistakes. She hunched over the board, trying to erase the attempt she’d made at his eyes. She would try again. If she could capture that look, she’d feel incredibly proud in her work, and she wanted to feel that accomplishment.

            “What are you working on?” a deep voice said nearby and she jumped and looked up.

            Cullen had finally spotted her, it seemed, and had come over to speak with her. She hastily turned the parchment over, hoping that he wouldn’t see the sketch of him that she’d been so focused on. His brows furrowed as he watched her turn the parchment over.

            “Just – just some sketching,” she answered, and she turned the board so he could see her sketch of the tower.

            “That’s – wow, that’s beautiful,” he said, and he turned to look over his shoulder at the tower itself as if comparing. “You’re very talented.”

            She shrugged. “It just takes practice. It’s not like I have much else to do.” She pursed her lips, hating how honest she continued to be with him.

            “May I see the other one you were working on?” he asked, and she raised her eyebrows as she looked at him.

            “I -” she began, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t sure what he would think of her sketching him. She felt her cheeks heat, feeling thoroughly embarrassed at the idea of showing him.

            “I just – you flipped over the parchment like you’d been sketching something else,” he pointed at the board.

            “I – well, I…” she sighed, and resigned herself to show him. Slowly she turned the parchment over and handed it to him, feeling her cheeks burning until they must be as hot as the sun.

            He looked it over for a moment, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “It’s – it’s very well done,” he said and looked at her with a crooked grin. “Although I seem to be missing eyes.”

            She giggled, feeling a little relieved that he was teasing her and smiling about it. She felt slightly less embarrassed. “I can’t quite seem to get them right,” she confessed.

            He frowned and looked back down at them. “Was it the distance?”

            She shook her head. “No, it’s – it’s the look. You have…a sadness, in your eyes, but also a warmth that’s not easily captured with charcoal. I couldn’t quite seem to get it right.” She looked down, not wanting to see the curious expression on his face in response to her observations.

            “I – I see,” he murmured. The tone of his voice made her glance back up at him, and she saw him studying the sketch for a moment before he looked up at her. The look she’d been struggling to capture in her portrait was more pronounced than ever as he held her gaze. He gave one last look at the sketch and then handed it back to her. “You’re very talented. I’m sure you’ll be able to get it right eventually.”

            She raised her eyebrows at him. He seemed to be gently encouraging her to continue trying to sketch him, or to try again in the future. It was an odd moment, and she took the sketch back and stared at her charcoal covered hands for a moment.

            “Would you like to play chess later?” he asked. “I’ll have some time, I’m on night patrol again tonight, so a break would be greatly appreciated.”

            She considered him for a moment, and then gave a slow nod of her head. “I’d like that.”

            He gave her a crooked smile and said, “Does after supper work?”

            “Yes, that’s fine,” she agreed.

            He stood nodding eagerly for a moment before he finally seemed to collect his thoughts. “I’ll see you then,” and he turned and continued his patrols.

 

 

 

            Evelyn found herself somehow too nervous to finish her supper, and she picked at her food and pushed it around her plate. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, uncertain why she had a sudden flare of nerves. She was a nervous eater anyway, often times feeling too suffocated by the presence of the Templars that she didn’t finish any of her meals. It led to the First Enchanter frequently trying to push food on her during their mentoring sessions.

            She finally heaved a sigh, unable to force herself to eat anymore and she pushed her plate away from her. She ignored Grayson’s curious stare as he watched her depart, and she veered off to the courtyard to set up the chess board, determining to wait for the Knight-Captain there.

            She was only just taking her seat when he approached, and he silently gestured to the seat across from her. She smiled and nodded, finding it curious and endearing that he asked permission before he sat. She set up the board, her fingers fluttering a bit in nervousness. She hoped he didn’t notice.

            “Have you beaten the First Enchanter, yet?” he asked as he sat forward to look over the board.

            “No, but I came closer after the time that you – that we played,” she gave him a small quirk of a smile.

            “That’s progress,” he pointed out. “Should I – do you – hmm.”

            She raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to finish his thought.

            “I think I’ll see how you do on your own this time, shall I?” he finally said, raising his gaze to hers, his hands clasped and propping his chin up as he regarded her.

            “All right, you’re on,” she giggled softly.

            They fell into an easy silence as they focused on their match, and Evelyn did her best not to hesitate before she made her moves. She resisted the urge to look at him for guidance like she had the last time, instead trying to rely on her own skill. She seemed to have improved, because occasionally he raised his eyebrows and took longer to choose his own moves as if she was posing more of a challenge to him.

            “How do you like Ostwick?” she asked after they had spent half of their game in silence.

            “It’s very different from Ferelden,” he answered. “Much warmer as well.”

            “Do you like the Circle?”

            “It’s – ah, also – very different,” he cleared his throat slightly.

            “Is that a good thing?” she furrowed her brows as she watched him shift slightly in his chair.

            “It’s taken some getting used to, that’s all,” he murmured as he studied the board.

            She bit her lip, wanting to ask about Kinloch, but she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. “How different is it?” she asked instead.

            He looked up at her and considered her for a moment. “It’s – far more lax, than I was expecting I suppose.”

            “Was your prior Circle very strict, then?” she raised her eyebrows. She wondered a bit if that was what had led to the chaos during the Blight.

            “Not terribly, but compared to here,” he looked back down at the board and she almost thought his voice sounded a bit like it was trembling.

            She decided to change the subject. “How long have you been a Templar?”

            “Ah – well, I took my vows and took on my full responsibilities six years ago, now, I suppose,” he answered. He gestured at the board to encourage her to make her next move. “But I began my training when I was thirteen.”

            “Thirteen?” she raised her gaze from his, her hand holding the piece she was about to move. “That’s so young, isn’t it?”

            He shrugged. “Maybe, but I wasn’t the youngest one there. Some are promised to the Chantry at infancy and raised in the Order.”

            “True, I suppose,” she agreed.

            “How long have you been here?” he asked as he made his next move.

            She smiled to herself as she realized her next move could push him in to check. “I’ve been here since I was seven, so almost twelve years,” she answered and made her move. “Check.”

            His gaze moved from where he had been looking over her face to the board. He stared at it for a moment before he chuckled. “Excellent move, I missed that.”

            “I distracted you with conversation,” she lightly teased. “It was all part of my master strategy.”

            He raised his gaze to hers once more, looking like he was eagerly taking in her soft giggles at her own joke. “It seems to have worked,” he conceded. He studied the board again and was silent, lost in concentration. “Isn’t seven a bit young for magic to show?”

            She shrugged as she watched him maneuver out of her check. “It all varies, I think.”

            “May I – may I ask how?” he looked up hesitantly.

            “How it showed?” she regarded him carefully for a moment. She shrugged. “It just – sort of did.”

            He frowned sharply. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry -”

            “No, it’s all right, it’s just – it’s an unusual story,” she said. “It feels odd, speaking about it with a – with a Templar.”

            For a moment they sat in an awkward silence. It was like they had suddenly been reminded of their positions in life, suddenly reminded of their extreme differences.

            She returned her focus to the game, realizing it was her turn again. He cleared his throat and seemed to be shifting uneasily in his chair. She almost wished she hadn’t said it or pointed it out, or that she had just told him the story. She sighed a little as she looked over the board, but forgot the abrupt tension between them as she saw her next move.

            She raised her gaze to his as she moved her piece. “Checkmate.”

            His eyebrows rose and he looked over the board. He gave a wide grin as he took it in. “Well played.”

            “Thank you,” she returned his smile.

            They sat for several moments more in silence, neither making the move to get up. Their renewed, comfortable silence was interrupted when her stomach gave a sudden, loud rumble. She hadn’t realized she finally felt hungry instead of nervous.

            He frowned and looked at her for a moment. “Did you eat supper?” he asked. He sounded concerned.

             “I – no, I didn’t, not really,” she answered softly, looking down.

            “Why not?”

            “I was – nervous. I couldn’t eat,” she admitted. She hated how honest she always felt around him, how for some reason she couldn’t hide the truth like she normally would have.

            “Nervous?” he sounded taken aback. She glanced up to see him scowling. “Were you nervous about – about playing chess with me? Or -” he trailed off, looking confused.

            She shrugged. “I always feel nervous. Being watched all the time -” she stopped talking and folded her arms, leaning back in her chair. She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from confessing how nervous the Templars always made her, how her days were full of constant anxiety.

            There were a few moments of silence before he suddenly pushed his chair back. “Come with me,” he said, and his voice sounded firm, almost commanding. It was quite the change from how he normally spoke to her.

            She stared at him, bewildered for a moment, but he stood near the table waiting for her to get up as well. She pushed her chair back and stood, cautiously stepping away from it to follow him. Her heart was racing, unsure of what his intentions were. A voice in her mind told her to flee back to her quarters, but she still put one foot in front of the other, compelled to follow him.

            He led her through the now deserted corridors, and she realized how late it had gotten. He was walking quickly, his long legs causing her to have to take two steps for each of his one so she could keep up. He navigated the halls easily, and she realized how much time he must have spent on his night patrols familiarizing himself with the entire Circle. He led her to an area of the Circle she never frequented that often, and she clenched her fists, trying to stop their shaking. Her nervousness was increased when she realized how far away from everyone else he was leading her.

            He suddenly pushed open a door and stood aside so she could go in first. She peered through it and her eyebrows rose high on her forehead when she saw where he had led her.

            It was the kitchens.

            She hesitantly stepped inside and he followed. She realized suddenly how odd it was that she had never sought out the kitchens, in all of her years living there.

            He gestured at a stool that was sitting against one of the counters, indicating that she should take it. She perched on it, her hands clutching the sides by her hips as she watched him move around the counters.

            After a few moments of searching through things he finally seemed to find what he was looking for and put together a small plate of what he had gathered. He walked over to her and held it out.

            She stared down at it for a moment, unsure why she was hesitating to accept it. He’d filled the plate with bread, cheese, nuts, and a few pieces of fruit for her. When she didn’t take it right away he sighed and held it out more insistently. “Take it, you need to eat.”

            She shot him a furtive glance and finally took the offered plate. She set it on her knees and picked up a few nuts, popping them in her mouth and looking up at him as she began chewing. He was watching her intently, and she wondered for a moment if he was going to stand before her to make certain that she ate it all.

            After a few minutes of him observing her eating, he finally nodded to himself and then walked over to a few jugs that were on another counter. He picked up a few before he found what he was looking for and poured some into a cup. He brought it over to her. “Here, some water, too.”

            She took it with a grateful nod and slowly sipped it as she watched him, a frown coming across her face. “Why do you care so much that I didn’t eat?” she asked softly.

            He shrugged but didn’t answer. Instead he turned and walked across the room to a small container on one of the counters. He opened it and peered in, looking intently for something. He smiled to himself as he pulled out two sweet rolls, and she thought it curious that he knew exactly where to find them. He walked back over to her and offered her one of them.

            She took it from him and watched as he took a bite of the other pastry he held. A small smile came across his face as he savored and chewed it. “Do you sneak in here for sweets?” she asked, giggling before she took a small bite of the sweet roll he’d given her.

            He looked almost sheepish. “Sometimes,” he confessed. “On night patrol.”

            She giggled again and he gave her a slightly guilty smile. “And here I thought you followed all of the rules.”

            “Most of them,” he replied, and he continued smiling as he finished his pastry.

            She finished eating and he stood near her, enjoying peaceful silence together.

            When she was done he took the plate and cup from her and disappeared for a moment to clean them up. She sat still on the stool, feeling more curious than ever at his actions and his attitude toward her. He returned from the back room and gestured to the door. She slid off the stool and followed him out of the kitchens, falling into step with him. He wasn’t walking as quickly as he had when he had led her to the kitchens.

            “I’ll walk you back, so you don’t get in trouble,” he said.

            “I – thank you,” she murmured.

            They walked through the halls in silence, both walking at a leisurely pace like they didn’t want to reach their destination too soon. It was comfortable, and she marveled at how strange it was to feel so relaxed with a Templar.

            But he was still so warm, so kind to her. It was baffling, but somehow it almost felt like friendship.

            They finally reached the mage quarters and she gave him a timid smile. “Thank you, again, Cullen.”

            He nodded. “Good night, Evelyn,” he said, and he waited for her to enter the quarters before she heard him walk way to begin his night patrol.


	5. A Silent Reminder

            Time had started to pass more quickly, and Evelyn found herself surprised as she realized it had already been four months since her mother’s passing. She still snuck away occasionally to light candles in the Chantry at night, but otherwise she was adjusting to her grief. She hadn’t written to her father, completely unsure what she could say, especially after so long without writing. They were all each other had, now, but still she was hesitant, unable to try to bridge the gap between them.

            Instead she continued her studies and her sketching. She still tried to sketch Cullen occasionally, still attempting to get his eyes right. She was getting better, but the look remained nearly impossible to capture. They played chess together at least once a week, and she was getting much better until it was normal for her to beat him when they played. Sometimes he brought her treats from the kitchen to their games, and she ate them under his careful regard, timid under his attentive gaze. He seemed to take a certain pleasure in making sure she was eating, and she wasn’t sure what she made of it.

            It was one morning in spring when she woke up feeling more excited than normal as she thought about the day ahead of her. It was her birthday, and for some reason she found herself looking forward to the day and what it may bring. Usually her birthdays came and went and all that happened was that she was another year older. She had only realized the week before that it was coming up, having been too caught up in how she was spending her days to pay much attention to the time that was passing. She had mentioned it in passing to Cullen over one of their chess games, and he had made her promise to play chess with him on her special day. She wondered about how excited he had been when she told him.

            She saw him in the dining hall that morning when she broke her fast, but resisted going over to say hello. Instead she smiled when he caught her eye, and he gave her a small wave. He still sat alone when he ate, and she found it curious that after all these months at the Ostwick Circle he still avoided the other Templars and mages. She heard other mages talking about him, and they all seemed wary, claiming that he seemed overly suspicious and eager to see threats everywhere. Evelyn still found it odd, since he never acted that way with her. She almost wondered if the other mages were just projecting the general distrust of Templars on to him as well; it was clear none of them had spent any time talking to him.

            She spent her day in the courtyard practicing her magic, having fun and relishing the lightning moving through her veins. It was oddly relaxing and enjoyable, sometimes, to revel in the abilities she had and the things she could do. She wasn’t trying to achieve anything particular, instead just working through her nerves and excitement for what the day may bring.

            After nibbling some at the midday meal, her nerves and excitement once again impeding her appetite, she retired to the library to read. She took up a spot on a stool beside the shelves, flipping through pages absently as she let her mind wander. The old pages of the tomes she looked through were soothing to her, the smell of parchment and ancient books permeating the air. It was one of her favorite things about the Circle, and she sat smiling to herself as she read.

            “Evie,” she heard behind her, and she looked up over her shoulder. Grayson was standing there, looking hesitant and anxious, but eager as ever.

            Since her mother’s death, he had agreed to stay friends and had spent more time speaking with her. It still made her bristle that he called her ‘Evie’ but she had given up correcting him. Only her family had ever called her that, and it made her heart ache every time she heard anyone else address her so. She brushed it off, though, and instead smiled at him. “Hello, Grayson. How are you today?”

            “I’m well, of course,” he smiled and came to stand beside her. “Happy birthday.”

            She nodded her head a little. “Thank you, I didn’t think you’d remember.”

            “Of course I remembered,” he stepped slightly closer to her. He leaned against the bookshelves, watching her closely. “Are you free this evening? I was thinking – it’s your birthday, and you should have a bit of fun. We could play chess, or watch the stars -”

            “I – I’m busy, I’m sorry,” she demurred, but didn’t elaborate. She knew he would be angry if he knew she had promised to play chess with a Templar instead of him.

            He frowned, and folded his arms. “I – well, what about tomorrow? Or right now? We could go sit in the courtyard and – watch the clouds or something?”

            She stared at him for a moment, wondering at how he kept insisting. She had a feeling he was looking for an opportunity to get her alone. She knew, she could tell that he hadn’t given up on his feelings for her, but she’d tried to ignore it. She sighed. “I’m – I – I don’t know…”

            He leaned closer to her. “I’d like to do something special for you, Evie.”

            She felt her heart start racing, but it was an unpleasant feeling. She didn’t like how close he was to her, and she scooted slightly on the stool, leaning back. She almost worried she was going to fall off. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

            “Evie, I know – I know you could care about me,” he murmured, and he was leaning even closer. He looked around, as if checking to make sure the coast was clear before he turned back to her and gave a tentative smile. “You always look so lonely… and you’re so beautiful.”

            It happened so swiftly that when she tried to think about it later, she wasn’t quite sure how so much happened in so short a time.

            Grayson leaned toward her, and his hands grabbed her cheeks to pull her to him.

            She hadn’t been prepared for it. Her nerves were frayed and her heart was racing until she almost wondered how he couldn’t hear it pounding against her ribs.

            But as soon as he touched her skin and tried to press his lips to hers, it happened.

            Her magic flared, her nerves so fraught that her body reacted instinctually to being touched unexpectedly. Grayson cried out and recoiled as a loud _crack_ shattered the air and a spark flew off her skin, scorching his hand. The air around her was crackling, and a lightning bolt struck a nearby stool and it split in two. Screams sounded in the library and she flung herself off the stool to get away from him in case it happened again. She was surprised by her body’s reaction, and Grayson continued to hold his hand and groan in pain.

            She gasped and opened her mouth to say something, to apologize or check on him, but in an instant everything around her went still.

            She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to, a sudden oppressive feeling filling her lungs and making the lyrium in her veins feel like daggers as it raced through her. She gave a silent cry and fell to the ground in shock, recoiling against the bookshelves beside her as she looked around in terror. Grayson fell beside her as well, his cries now just him opening his mouth without anything coming out.

            Evelyn looked up, her eyes wide as she took in the figure standing at the end of the row of bookshelves.

            Cullen was standing there, one arm outstretched, staring wide-eyed at the pair of mages he had just Silenced.

 

* * *

 

            There was so much commotion that it took him a few moments to figure out what exactly was going on or had happened. Several other Templars had run forward, including the Knight-Commander. A cluster of mages were grouped around the row of bookshelves, all gaping and whispering to each other as they took in the scene.

            Cullen looked around wildly, his heart racing and his vision almost blurring in his panic. He was so terrified it took him until the Knight-Commander gripped his shoulders to realize that people were addressing him. Halwell was looking at him, trying to question him. He looked over the man’s shoulder and saw several Templars pulling Grayson to his feet, intending to escort him from the library. He was clutching his hand, which was scorched near his thumb, blistering, reddened and almost black in spots.

            Beside them on the ground was Evelyn, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pushed against the Templar who was trying to lift her to a standing position.

            He hadn’t realized, he hadn’t even known who it was. All he knew was the sound of the lightning as it had struck, the sudden fear that it meant an attack. It meant chaos, it meant a rebellion, it meant torture and attempts at control…

            His mind was still blank with terror as he took in the scene before him and the loud commotion that was overtaking the usually calm library. He watched as two Templars grabbed Evelyn and pulled her to her feet finally. They held her up by her arms, moving her to stand by the Knight-Commander and Cullen.

            “Was this the mage, Knight-Captain?” one of them asked Cullen.

            He stared into the Templar’s eyes for a moment and then looked down at Evelyn. Her lips were moving wordlessly as she stared at the ground, but he knew she couldn’t still be Silenced. Instead, she looked stuck in shocked terror, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what was going on.

            “I – I -” he began, but he couldn’t find the words.

            “Ser Cullen, are you all right?” the Knight-Commander asked.

            He swallowed hard and looked at Halwell, and he took a deep breath to try to steady himself. “I didn’t see what happened,” he admitted quietly. “I just heard it – and saw the – the strike. I -”

            Halwell nodded. “Take her to First Enchanter Gabrielle, tell her I’ll be there shortly.”

            The other Templars nodded and turned, escorting Evelyn between them from the library. Cullen watched them leave, and in the terror and panic still flooding his mind, he suddenly found himself unable to see the young woman he played chess with and snuck sweet rolls.

            Instead, all he saw was a mage.

 

* * *

 

            “Evelyn, what happened?” Gabrielle was standing before her, her arms folded. She didn’t look angry, exactly – she mostly looked concerned.

            Evelyn shook her head, unable to find her voice. The feeling of being Silenced was still too recent, her veins still prickling and irritated, her heart pounding even faster than it had been before Grayson had tried to kiss her. She tried to take a deep breath and failed.

            “Knight-Commander Halwell is on his way, please – tell me what happened before he gets here,” the First Enchanter implored her urgently.

            “It was an accident,” she finally managed to say, her voice barely audible.

            “How did it happen?”

            “H-he tried – Grayson tried t-to kiss me. I – I don’t know what happened, I just -” she raised her gaze to the other woman’s. “I didn’t want him to, and my magic flared. I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t, really…it was an accident, I s-swear.”

            She felt tears still running down her cheeks, and her lips were trembling. She was shaking all over like a leaf. Grayson’s cry was burned into her memory. She couldn’t get past the feeling of the Silence, or the look of fear and hatred on Cullen’s face.

            She had never felt more terrified. She didn’t know what was going to happen to her – magic was not to be used against anyone else. The punishments for doing so were severe.

            The door opened and Halwell entered, the Knight-Captain trailing behind him. He was still wide-eyed, and his eyes flitted around the room without settling on anything. He didn’t look at Evelyn at all.

            “Evelyn,” Halwell greeted her. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

            She gulped and looked at the three standing before her. “I – I -” she clenched her fists and took a deep breath so she could try again. “It was an a-accident, Knight-Commander.”

            “Even still, I’d like to know what happened,” the man replied firmly.

            “H-he…he tried to kiss me,” she confessed, her voice trembling and so quiet she saw both Templars lean forward to try to hear her. She noticed Cullen’s hands clench into tight fists but he still wouldn’t look at her. “I didn’t want him to, I was nervous and it – it caught me off guard. My magic…I didn’t mean to. I-I’m so sorry -”

            She fell into renewed sobs, unable to continue.

            “I see,” Halwell answered. He heaved a sigh and turned to face the First Enchanter. “I checked on Grayson, the healers patched him up without issue.”

            Gabrielle gave a murmur of acknowledgment.

            “Knight-Captain,” Halwell turned to face Cullen instead. “Does this match your recollection of events?”

            Cullen looked up at his Commander finally, and his eyes briefly darted to where Evelyn sat. There was an odd look like coldness in his eyes, something beyond anxiety. “As I said, Ser, I was standing further along the wall. I-I didn’t see for certain. But I -” he hesitated and gave one last furtive glance to Evelyn. “I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

            Halwell nodded and turned back to face Evelyn, considering her carefully. “I believe you,” he finally told her. “However, you still could have killed a man. First Enchanter, I’m…unsure if this can go without any sort of – ah, reaction, let’s say. It was admittedly an accident, and I’m not sure a _punishment_ is in order. But perhaps a loss of privilege, for a time.”

            Gabrielle straightened to her considerable height and held her head high. “The poor young thing is traumatized, can’t you see that? She admits she didn’t mean to do it, and she was also, in a way, a victim in this situation. Grayson was trying to -”

            “I understand, and considering the rules on fraternization, we will be holding him accountable for his actions as well,” Halwell interrupted. “In the meantime, I think perhaps Evelyn should be barred from visiting home for the next three months.”

            Evelyn furrowed her brow and stared at the Knight-Commander, thoroughly confused. She didn’t go home at all anyway, what kind of a punishment was that? She looked up at the First Enchanter and saw her eyebrows rise in response to Halwell’s pronouncement. Gabrielle looked down at her and gave a small nod of her head, as if catching on to the man’s intent.

            “I agree, Knight-Commander, that seems fitting,” she agreed.

            The Knight-Commander cleared his throat. “Nice to see we could come to an agreement. Knight-Captain, please escort Evelyn to the mages’ quarters for the rest of the evening.”

            Cullen looked up and held his Commander’s gaze for a moment, almost seeming as if he wanted to protest. He hesitated and then finally gave a jerky nod. Gabrielle bent and helped Evelyn to her feet, making sure she was steady before she encouraged her to follow the Knight-Captain.

            Evelyn moved slowly, her arms crossed before herself as she trailed behind Cullen. They departed the room, and she noticed he was walking quickly, not looking at her. She averted her own gaze, trying to avoid moving too close to him as they made their way down the halls. She had to half-jog to keep up with him, and the entire time her heart raced.

            She couldn’t forget the Silence he had used on her.

            She couldn’t forget the way he had looked at her.

            She was still crying, tears pouring down her cheeks unheeded. Her body ached with the lingering feeling of the way her magic had been suppressed.

            They finally reached the mage quarters and he opened the door for her and addressed the open doorway instead of her. “Knight-Commander Halwell would like for you to stay here for the rest of the night. You’re not to speak to anyone or leave this room. Understood?”

            She bit her lip to choke back a sob. He wouldn’t look at her, and his voice was clipped and harsh.

            “Understood?” he repeated, still without looking at her.

            “Y-yes, Knight-Captain,” she finally whispered, and she scurried through the door and quickly made her way to her corner of the quarters.

            The door closed behind her with a sharp snap of finality.

           

* * *

 

            Cullen tugged at the fastenings of his armor, his hands still trembling. He had already requested not to be on night patrol because of the plans he had made, but now he found himself relieved that he could seek the solitude of his small room. He quickly stripped down to his shirt and breeches, hanging his armor on the stand that sat in the corner of his room.

            When he finished he turned and caught sight of what was sitting on the small desk beside the stand, the only furniture in the room except his narrow bed. He stepped forward and stared down at the clumsily wrapped bundle, a curious mixture of emotions coursing through him as he considered the package.

            It had been meant as a birthday present.

            He sighed and rubbed his forehead, shaking his head as he mentally chastised himself.

            He knew better than to get involved with his charges. He knew better than to care about them beyond their safety. And yet he hadn’t been able to resist trying to befriend one of them. He couldn’t believe how foolish he had been.

            He tried to shake the guilt he felt for what had happened. He had done his duty. He had done what he was trained to do in that situation. A mage had used magic when she wasn’t supposed to, had injured a fellow mage, had seemingly lost control of herself and her magic.

            He had acted just as he should by Silencing the area and subduing her.

            But his mind kept conjuring the image of her terrified face, of the tears streaming down her cheeks. He hated himself for it, even if it was what he was supposed to do.

            His mind reminded him of the _crack_ of lightning, though, and he shuddered. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to shut out the memories. Since it had happened, his heart hadn’t calmed, his hands hadn’t stopped shaking. Halwell had checked on him, trying to determine if he was all right and ready to carry on his duties for the rest of the day. He had managed to convince his Commander that he was, but the whole rest of the evening he had jumped at the sound of anyone approaching, anyone speaking near him.

            Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured the cage in Kinloch.

            He had had several months now where he had managed to keep the memories subdued during the day, no longer focusing on them or letting them torment him while awake. He took as many night patrols as he could so that he didn’t have to deal with the nightmares. By the time he was relieved to get a few hours of sleep, he was normally so tired he either managed to sleep dreamlessly or was awake before the memories were able to get to the worst parts. For a long time, now, he hadn’t had to face his suffering.

            That afternoon in the library, it had all come rushing back.

            He sank onto the edge of his bed, tangled up in fear and shame. He had learned his lesson. He knew now why he needed to keep his distance. He stood after a long moment and picked the bundle up from his desk. He held it over the rubbish pot for a moment, but hesitated. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

            He sighed and opened a drawer in his desk instead and threw it in before he sat back on his bed.

            It had been nice, feeling like he had a friend for once. But he remembered now.

            Mages were dangerous.

            He was a Templar.

            He couldn’t be friends with one. He couldn’t think about how beautiful or intriguing she was.

            He was the Knight-Captain, and he was going to remember that in the future.


	6. Bittersweet and Dearly Missed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters are going to start having quick time jumps to move us forward a bit. I'm trying to keep it straight and clear so I'm not confusing anyone ;-)
> 
> xx,  
> L

            “Thank you for coming, Evelyn,” Gabrielle greeted her. “Please, take a seat.”

            Evelyn timidly sat in the chair across the desk from the First Enchanter and clasped her trembling hands in her lap. The summons to her study had seemed so formal, she almost wondered if there was to be an added punishment for what had happened the day before.

            “How are you this morning?” the other woman asked, peering at her with obvious concern.

            “I’m…I want to say I’m fine but I’m not,” she admitted.

            “That’s understandable,” the First Enchanter nodded. “I was hoping you might answer some questions for me, dear.”

            Evelyn nodded at her but found her mouth go dry, and she swallowed hard.

            Gabrielle considered her for a moment before she took a deep breath. “I’ll get the hardest question out of the way first, I think,” she mused softly. “Evelyn, has anything happened to you within this Circle that was…untoward? Anything that may have caused you harm, or made you afraid of people, Templars in particular?”

            Evelyn frowned. “N-no, First Enchanter.”

            The other woman held her gaze for a moment. “Is that the honest answer?”

            Evelyn hesitantly nodded, unsure of how to admit what she should.

            “And have you witnessed anything that may have frightened you? Any, ah – abuses of power, or the like?”

            Evelyn swallowed again and looked down at her hands. “There was – was one, one…ah…”

            “Please, Evelyn, I need to know. I’m trying to understand.”

            She bit her lip for a moment and then sighed. “Do you remember Ser Conall?”

            The First Enchanter nodded, and Evelyn noticed her face come into a sharp frown.

            “He used to try to get the mages alone,” Evelyn continued. Her voice was shaky as she spoke, and she realized she needed to be honest. “He tried to catch us breaking rules, and he’d demand – favors – for not turning us in. I saw him corner Vaerine, once it… And – he tried to corner me, too. I was so small though I managed to slip away from him.”

            Gabrielle took a deep breath. “Did he hurt you?”

            “Just frightened me. What I saw him do to Vaerine was worse, I -” but she couldn’t bring herself to elaborate.

            “When was this?”

            “A few years ago, before he was sent away. I think…I think he may have kept it up until he left.”

            Gabrielle rubbed her forehead. “Yes, we found out too late. He was sent away, dismissed, but I always thought we didn’t know the full extent.” She thought for a moment. “This was when you were just a child, wasn’t it?”

            “I was barely fifteen,” Evelyn murmured.

            “I see,” the First Enchanter sighed. “Is there anything else? As I said, I’m trying to understand.”

            “Understand what, First Enchanter?”

            “You seem incredibly _anxious_ , Evelyn,” Gabrielle told her. “I’ve noticed it before, but after the events of yesterday, I’m beginning to think it’s more constant and more of an issue than I realized.”

            Evelyn gulped but didn’t say anything.

            “I understand too from the Knight-Captain that you find it difficult to eat because of your nerves,” the First Enchanter continued. Evelyn was surprised at the source of her information and raised her eyebrows slightly. “I always noticed you were skinny, but I thought maybe you were a picky eater or just naturally that way. I never thought maybe you were unable to eat from your anxieties.”

            Evelyn looked down at her clasped hands and didn’t answer.

            “Might I also ask – why do you not wish to go home?”

            “It’s better this way,” she admitted softly. “It’s better if they go on with their lives like I’m not a part of the family anymore. It would be more painful if I flitted in and out of their lives.”

            “You say ‘their,’ but it’s just ‘his’ now,” Gabrielle pointed out, her voice gentle and sad. “We’ve tried at this Circle to foster a culture of fraternity, and learning. We allow our mages to keep in contact with their families so that they don’t feel deprived, or cut off. We don’t mean to isolate.”

            Evelyn nodded absently, taking in the other woman’s words.

            “But I notice that you actively isolate yourself,” the First Enchanter said. Evelyn looked up at her and bit her lip before she nodded and looked down once more. “Why is that, Evelyn?”

            “I -” she thought for a moment. “People have always treated me differently because of my eyes, my magic, my…odd affinity for storms and lightning. The way that I observe everything, trying to understand it, the way that I watch others so closely to figure them out. It’s made it easier if I just avoided everyone instead. I don’t like the stares or being watched – as ironic as that may be.”

            Gabrielle pursed her lips and thought. “You and Grayson were friendly, I knew that. Was there more to it?”

            “He told me he had feelings for me. I…I didn’t feel the same. I told him so, but he…” she trailed off and shrugged.

            “Is there no one else you speak with? I know that you and I play chess, and I act as your mentor as frequently as I can. But do you have no one else you can rely on, seek comfort or companionship with?”

            Evelyn immediately thought of Cullen, of his warm eyes and his crooked grin across the chess board from her. She thought of the night they prayed together, the night he made her eat something in the kitchen. The sweet rolls he snuck her for their chess games and the way he watched her nibble them, so happy to see her eating something.

            She pulled her lips tight against her teeth, trying to fight the urge to cry as she remembered the look of terror in his eyes when he looked at her the previous day. Of the horrible tone of his voice when he instructed her to stay in her quarters. He had finally looked at her as the other Templars did.

            Like a mage.

            Not like a person.

            Not like a woman.

            Not like a friend.

            She had spent all night crying as she remembered that look.

            She hung her head again and shook it, denying that there was anyone else she could seek for companionship.

            The First Enchanter sighed and the silence stretched between them.

            “We’re going to start lessons together, every day for half an hour,” the First Enchanter finally said.

            “What will we be working on?” Evelyn looked up, confused.

            “Control,” Gabrielle answered. “Meditation and relaxation. You need to learn to steady your nerves, to overcome your trepidations. It will help you control your magic so that you do not let it get away from you again. You are so extraordinary, Evelyn, and you shouldn’t be full of such doubt and fear. You could be so much more than that, if you stopped letting it get in your way.”

            Evelyn furrowed her brows but finally gave a consenting nod. “Yes, First Enchanter.”

 

* * *

 

            Cullen stood in the library, keeping his eyes moving across the room, taking in the mages studying at the tables and speaking with one another.

            He didn’t glance in the direction of the shelves where the lightning had struck the day before.

            He didn’t look around eagerly to see if she had entered the library.

            He stood, stoic and watching, fighting the memories, fighting the thoughts of the day before, the thoughts of her.

            He stopped trying to determine why he found her so fascinating.

            It didn’t matter why. It should never have progressed even to the innocent point it had reached.

            He was allowed to have friends.

            He was not allowed to be friends with mages.

            That afternoon he patrolled the training grounds, again forcing himself to face his demons. He would endure, he would overcome this.

            Knight-Commander Halwell checked on him, and he finally asked for more duties.

            “I’ve been here for almost a year, Ser,” he pointed out. “I think I’ve familiarized myself with the Circle, and can take on more duties as Knight-Captain, now. I’m ready, I’m adjusted.”

            Halwell considered him for a moment, and finally nodded.

            Cullen buried himself in his duties, he buried himself in work. He ignored his fears, he ignored his solitude.

            He no longer looked through the halls for her, he no longer sought her in the training grounds to watch her practice. He no longer played chess, or snuck sweet rolls from the kitchen, even for himself. He would be a good Templar, he would follow the rules and perform his duties as was expected.

            He wouldn’t get to know any of his charges, so that he could remain impartial.

            It was necessary to stay impartial, that day in the library had proved it.

            Two months passed, and he always tried to pointedly avoid catching her eye when they happened to be in the same room. He noticed a return to her old skittish behavior, but one day he noticed that she was only edgy and jumpy when she noticed he was around.

            He shook himself and didn’t focus on it.

            He had been at Ostwick for a year, now. It had been a year and half since the chaos at Kinloch. He was focused, he was purposeful and professional.

            But he wasn’t happy.

            Time flew incredibly quickly the busier he pushed himself to be, and soon he was overseeing many of the other Templars and arranging many of their activities within the Circle. He would be the best Knight-Captain he could be.

            If anything because it kept him distracted, it kept him busy so that he didn’t notice how monotonous time could drag on otherwise.

            He still didn’t seek out companionship beyond speaking with others about their duties. He tried not to speak with any of the mages, and resolved to just watch.

            He’d learned his lesson.

            But after some time, the nightmarish memories began to fade in how busy he was. He didn’t avoid looking the direction of that row of bookshelves. And after a time he found himself watching her when she wasn’t looking his way.

            She carried herself a little straighter, no longer trying to look as small as possible. She wasn’t as thin, and he noticed at meals she ate more than she used to. Her cheeks almost glowed, her skin healthy and flushed, and around other Templars she passed by easily.

            She avoided his gaze; she often walked by as if she didn’t see him. He noticed though that there was a certain tenseness in her shoulders when she did so, as if she was keenly aware of his presence but trying not to acknowledge it.

            He wasn’t sure what was worse; the skittishness or the odd, aloof attitude she now held toward him.

            It had now been months since what had happened, and he couldn’t help but find his mind wandering her way when things were calm or when he was on night patrol. He remembered their joint prayers, the night he had made her eat in the kitchens, the times she had smiled across the chess board at him…

            Despite himself, he missed her companionship. She had felt like a kindred spirit. He missed their easy silence, their soft, hesitant teasing of one another. The look of her unusual, translucent eyes as she glanced up at him furtively, as if unsure she should be looking at him at all.

            Every time his mind wandered like this, he chastised himself and did his best to refocus.

            She was his charge. They couldn’t be friends.

            He couldn’t think about her.

  

* * *

 

            Evelyn sat in the courtyard, leaning against the willow tree with her eyes closed. She took deep breaths, focusing on the sound of the birds singing nearby, of the more distant sounds of the sea crashing against the nearby cliffs.

            It was almost the beginning of fall now. The air was warm, and she enjoyed the soft, slightly chilly breeze that blew the loose strands of hair around her face, tickling her ever so gently.

            She was practicing her meditation, focusing the way the First Enchanter had instructed her to in order to calm her mind and her nerves. These last months she had felt calmer, she hadn’t been as flighty when faced with the presence of others. She sat like this daily, focusing on the soft, enjoyable sounds around her.

            Gabrielle and she would be playing chess later, and before that she was helping Senior Enchanter Lydia with a lesson. She was trying to teach barriers, and Evelyn’s had made such incredible progress she was going to help show the apprentices. She was finding ways to fill her time, and it was passing more quickly than she had anticipated. Even though it meant her life was flying by, she was oddly glad about that. The monotony was lessened when she was busy.

            Grayson now avoided her, but she found she wasn’t irritated that he was. He frequently left rooms when she entered, and sometimes he scowled at her. She tried not to be bothered by his attitude, tried to fight the way her heart raced a little faster when she remembered what had happened. In those moments, she took a steadying breath. She closed her eyes, and focused instead – just like she was practicing.

            She tried not to think about how Cullen was avoiding her as well. She didn’t want to remember the look in his eyes, the way he now pointedly looked everywhere but her.

            She should have known that there were too many differences between them. They were a mage and a Templar. They never should have been friends in the first place.

            She took another deep breath and counted to five as she exhaled it. She wouldn’t let her sadness over losing his companionship get to her. It had been months, she shouldn’t feel its loss so acutely still.

            But it had been a friendship. Maybe the first true friendship of her life, and now she was still faced with his presence every day. The passage of time wasn’t helping soothe the aching within her, not when she saw him so frequently. So instead, she ignored it as best she could. She no longer ran from the Templars, no longer feared them. When faced with his presence though, she still hurried by. She couldn’t linger, she couldn’t trust herself not to try to speak with him if she didn’t rush past him.

            She finally fluttered her eyes open and looked around the courtyard, and her stomach lurched when she saw him standing along one of the walls. It was the same one he had leaned against when she first sketched him.

            She shook her head and ignored the memory, the remembrance of how he had smiled when he saw it. She took one last deep breath and pushed herself to a standing position.

            Evelyn held her head high and made her way out of the courtyard, not looking his way.

            As she passed him, she almost thought she heard him whisper a faint _‘hello’_ before he cleared his throat. She slowed, but decided it was her imagination, her longing to hear him greet her once more. She continued once more on her way, determined to get her staff before she helped Lydia with the lesson.

            The next day she spent in more of a melancholy than normal, meandering through her day as if in a fog. It had been a year since Bron had passed, and she spent supper trying to decide if it was worth sneaking out to the Chantry that night. She wasn’t quite sure why she never sought it during the day. She thought maybe it had something to do with the Chantry Sisters wanting to pry, or tell her more about what the Maker said about mages.

            She wasn’t interested in listening to their scolding, self-righteous sermons.

            She lay in bed that night for a while, listening to the sounds throughout the quarters and trying to determine if everyone was asleep. She thought she heard whispers and the hurried, muffled sounds of passion somewhere further along in the room, but otherwise it seemed safe enough for her to sneak out.

            She wrapped her blanket around herself like a shawl and hurried out of the quarters to the corridors. She peered around the door and around every corner as she raced barefoot through the stone hallways to her destination. So far she hadn’t seen another soul, but she knew that at least one Templar had to be on patrol and she didn’t want to get caught.

            She reached the Chantry and peered in but it was deserted like it usually was at this hour. Her feet made soft slapping sounds on the stone as she walked briskly down the center aisle and knelt before the statue of Andraste. She reached for a candle and set it before herself, and took a deep breath, lighting it easily with her fingers as she exhaled.

            Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she turned, somehow knowing exactly who it was.

            “It’s – it’s past…” he began, but he hesitated and frowned at her.

            “I’m sorry, Ser,” she murmured, and she turned to blow out the candle. “I’ll head back, I’m -”

            “What are you doing out?” he interrupted.

            She shifted so that she was facing him more directly on her knees, and the blanket she was using as a shawl caught under her legs and pulled off her shoulders to drape around her elbows. “It’s been a year since my brother passed,” she confessed softly. “I just wanted to – to mark it, to remember.”

            He was staring at her in an odd way, looking caught in indecision. His eyes roamed over her face, but then suddenly dipped lower and widened slightly. He cleared his throat and she glanced down, confused.

            The blanket was off her shoulders and the night shift she wore was exposed. The material was thin, and looked more low cut than it used to. Now that she had finally been able to eat, her body had begun to fill out, and she finally looked like a woman instead of a lanky young maiden. She hadn’t been able to replace her clothes, though, and her shift was stretched taut across her now round and full breasts.

            She bit her lip and quickly tried to pull the blanket out from under her legs so she could cover herself once more.

            He cleared his throat again and didn’t say anything until she was covered all the way.

            “I’m sorry I was out,” she repeated, staring down at the candle. “I’ll head back, Ser. I didn’t mean to break the rules.”

            “It’s fine,” he said, and his voice sounded slightly strained. “May I – may I join you in your prayers?”

            She stared at him for a long moment, her heart suddenly racing. She remembered the night he had prayed after her mother’s death, the memory making her heart ache as she recalled the cadence of his voice as he recited the lines. She felt tears spring to her eyes, though she actually hadn’t felt like crying all day, even considering the anniversary.

            Finally she gulped and gave a jerky nod of permission, not trusting her voice to answer him.

            He took several slow steps forward and took his place beside her, kneeling before the statue. Their arms brushed one another, and the contact with his hard armor made her breath catch.

            He looked her way and then cleared his throat again. She bit her lip and clasped her hands before herself, thinking for a moment before she started. She picked up at the first verse she could remember in the prayer she wanted to recite.

            “In the long hours of the night

            When hope has abandoned me,

            I will see the stars and know

            Your Light remains.”

            Beside her Cullen clasped his own hands before he continued with her.

            “I have heard the sound

            A song in the stillness,

            The echo of Your voice,

            Calling creation to wake from its slumber.”

            She hesitated, suddenly forgetting the next verse. He took a breath before he resumed the prayer, gently prompting her and speaking slowly so she could join him if she remembered.

            “How can we know You?

            In the turning of the seasons, in life and death,

            In the empty space where our hearts

            Hunger for a forgotten face?”

            She nodded slightly as she listened to him recite the next few verses, still unsure and unable to join in. He finally reached lines she recalled and she recited with him, her voice a trembling whisper.

            “You have grieved as I have.

            You, who made worlds out of nothing.

            We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay,

            Comforting each other in our art.

 

            Do not grieve for me, Maker of All.

            Though all others may forget You,

            Your name is etched into my every step.

            I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself.”

            Evelyn’s voice suddenly caught and she couldn’t continue. Somehow listening to his voice once more, listening to the words of the prayer, thinking about the events of a year before…

            She remembered how suspicious she had been of him. She remembered how he had hurriedly reassured her he meant her no harm. She remembered how distraught he had seemed by her fear of him.

            Tears slid down her cheeks as he continued reciting the next few verses, but she noticed a falter in his words and he glanced her way briefly.

            She took a steadying breath and joined him, her voice trembling as she recited with him.

            “Though all before me is shadow,

            Yet shall the Maker be my guide.

            I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.

            For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light.

            And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

            Her tears renewed and she fell silent. He concluded the prayer while she pressed her clasped hands to her lips.

            She couldn’t tell what was making her cry harder – the anniversary of Bron’s passing, or the memories she was conjuring of their peaceful camaraderie. She had missed the sound of his voice, the soothing presence of him near her.

            She had missed her friend.

            He finally finished the prayer and sat for another moment in silence before he glanced her way. “I can’t tell, did – did company help, this time?”

            Evelyn brushed her cheeks and looked up at him. “I’m not sure,” she answered, more honestly than she intended. “I’ve mi -” but she caught herself and stopped that particular admission. She resisted her normal urge to be candid with him.

            They had lost that closeness. She couldn’t say that to him.

            “I should get back, I’ve been out longer than I should,” she murmured, and she leaned forward to blow out the candle she had lit. “Thank you, Knight-Captain, for your prayers.”

            She pushed herself to her feet and wrapped the blanket around herself more tightly. He was pushing himself to his feet as if he intended to walk with her or say something, but she hurried from the Chantry without looking back at him.

            She hoped he couldn’t tell she was crying harder as she ran away.

 

 

 

            It was a week later and she was sitting studying a chess board by herself, having finally beaten the First Enchanter. She would have been embarrassed about how long it took her if the older woman wasn’t such an accomplished player. Not to mention the fact that she had also lost both of the partners she had practiced with. She sat looking over the final checkmate, smiling a little to herself.

            The accomplishment felt a little bittersweet, though, when she realized she didn’t have anyone to tell. There was a time when the first person she would have told would have been him.

            But now, she couldn’t.

            She sighed as she took in the final product of her victory, and didn’t notice the footsteps coming up behind her.

            She gave a start when a hand reached down beside her elbow at the table. Just as she turned to look up at the owner of the hand, the arm withdrew and they turned and walked away.

             It was Cullen, and he was departing quickly without a second glance.

            She frowned, thoroughly bemused and looked back down at the table.

            A small sweet roll like the ones he used to sneak her from the kitchens was sitting on the edge of the table.


	7. ...And Stretched Into An Eternity

            It was his second autumn in Ostwick, and the air was finally cool enough that he didn’t chafe in his armor as he paced the halls. He’d thought he would get used to the heat, but even after all this time he still couldn’t quite adjust. Now that the sea-salt air was slightly cooler, he enjoyed wandering the corridors more frequently during the day.

            A few weeks had passed since he caught Evelyn in the Chantry after curfew, and he’d noticed that she had stopped trying to completely avoid his gaze. Instead whenever she noticed him he saw a small frown come across her face, and she almost pursed her lips as if thinking. He knew that she had to be curious why he hadn’t gotten her in trouble for it, or why a week later he had slipped her a sweet roll when she was in the courtyard.

            If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t quite sure about the answer to those questions either.

            He still didn’t think that breaking curfew to pray was deserving of punishment. The Chantry and the Maker should be open to all, whenever they were in need of succor and shelter. He knew that his Knight-Commander would likely frown upon his leniency on that matter, but in his heart he knew he couldn’t punish someone in need of the Maker.

            He was hurt, though, by the way she had run away from him. She hadn’t acted like she thought he was going to change his mind and punish her – instead she seemed like simply being near him was too bothersome or painful to stay. She had been sobbing as she hurried from the Chantry, and despite how much he had wanted to follow her, he hadn’t.

            It had nearly broken his resolve the next few days, and he had to resist the impulse to seek her out and speak with her about it.

            Instead in a moment of weakness, he had sought out the kitchens and stolen another sweet roll. He’d meant to say something when he gave it to her, but his nerves fled and he couldn’t think of any way to put into words everything he wanted to say. He felt almost like a coward, the way that he had simply set it beside her and then hurried off without looking at her. He spent the next few days cursing himself and his sentimental impulse as well as his cowardice.

            But after that he noticed a change in how she walked by, as if she was trying not to linger, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to.

            He sighed a bit to himself as he continued through the open corridors, but he stopped when he heard a clatter and rustling around the corner.

            “Oh, Maker’s breath,” he heard a soft voice mutter, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

            He lengthened his strides and rounded the corner, only to see Evelyn standing there staring at a mess of scrolls and parchment scattered on the stone floor. She had a hand on her forehead and the other on her hip as she regarded the mess.

            “Are you all right?” he asked, taking in the scene.

            Her head snapped up and she looked at him for a moment before she gave a weak chuckle. “I tripped and dropped – oh, Maker, and I need to get them to Enchanter Lydia before her lesson in a few minutes…”

            She heaved a sigh and crouched, trying to gather the loose sheets of parchment. He took a few steps forward and knelt on one knee beside her, picking up scrolls and holding them in one arm against his chest.

            “You don’t need to help, Cu – Knight-Captain, it’s fine,” she murmured. He noticed she was looking at him sideways as she tried to recreate the pile of notes she’d been carrying.

            “It is no trouble,” he answered, and he gave her a crooked grin.

            Evelyn stared at him for a moment, taking in the way the corner of his mouth tugged up with a curious look in her eyes. “Thank you,” she finally muttered, and he thought he saw her hands shake the tiniest bit as she fumbled with the parchment loose on the floor.

            “Are you helping with the lesson?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

            “Yes, they’re still working on barriers, and Lydia has been having me help show them how,” she replied. “She seems to think mine are -”

            But she stopped and shook her head.

            “Is something wrong?”

            “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about – about my magic,” she murmured, and he noticed a catch in her voice as she said it.

            “No, I’m – I’d be glad to listen,” he admitted, and he was momentarily thrown by how honest that statement was. He wanted to know, he wanted to ask her why her magic was best suited for helping teach the apprentices about barriers. He couldn’t explain his curiosity if he wanted to.

            She shrugged, finally pulling the last loose sheet of parchment to her before she stood. He stood as well, holding the scrolls in his arms. “I can take -”

            “I can carry them, if you lead the way,” he interrupted to assure her. He couldn’t help but want to stay near her, now that they were talking. It didn’t have the same easygoing feeling of their prior camaraderie, but it wasn’t strained, and she was actually looking at him.

            She considered for a moment and then nodded and turned to lead the way.

            “So why does she have you helping?” he prompted her.

            “My barriers also channel my natural energy,” she explained slowly, as if she was trying to think how to help him understand. “Most of the time, barriers are spirit magic only, but I – mine are lightning, too. They somehow defend through offense, as well, if anything gets near me.”

            He gulped a little nervously as he listened but he nodded, remembering the days he had watched her practice them in the courtyard. They shimmered, almost crackled every time she summoned one.

            “She has me helping to see if anyone else can achieve something similar – a couple of the apprentices, well you may have seen them,” she glanced up at him, her clear eyes focused intently on his face. “A few of them also strongly favor certain schools of magic, fire and ice mostly – you may have noticed their eyes. She wants to see if I can train them to replicate my barriers with their energy.”

            He nodded. “Has it worked so far?”

            “Almost,” she gave him a small smile. “They’ve gotten close, at least.”

            He smiled. “I’m sure it has quite a lot to do with their teacher.”

            She frowned a little. “True, Lydia is an excellent mage -”

            “No, I meant you,” he interjected.

            She glanced sideways at him, her eyes wide. “I – thank you, Ser.”

            He chafed at hearing her address him so again, but he wasn’t sure how to ask her not to without making their conversation awkward. He knew why she had become stilted toward him once more – they had both worked to put distance between them after what had happened months ago.

            They reached the small classroom and she led him to the desk to put the sheets of parchment and scrolls down on the tabletop. “Thank you, again,” she said, and she gave him a small smile.

            “Of course, Evelyn,” he said, and he saw a soft look come into her eyes when he said her name. “I – uh, good luck with the lesson.”

            She nodded and he paused for a moment more before he turned to leave the classroom. Several apprentices were arriving, and he hurried away to resume his patrols without looking back.

 

 

           

            Cullen felt somehow more relaxed, now. Evelyn didn’t rush by him anymore, and she didn’t look tense every time she noticed him near. Instead, she gave him timid smiles and tiny nods as greeting.

            They didn’t speak any more after the day that he helped her pick up the scrolls she’d dropped, but they also no longer avoided one another.

            It wasn’t friendship, but it was better than coldness and evasion.

            He let his mind wander and indulged his thoughts of her as he patrolled at night, finding himself wondering if it would be such a bad thing to be friends again. He no longer focused on the memory of the library that day – it had been so many months now, and since then she had reverted to her old self. Actually, she seemed improved from how she had been before. She no longer seemed like a scared little bird, ready to fly away at the slightest approach or perceived danger. She almost seemed more confident in herself.

            He always made sure he passed the Chantry on his night patrols, sometimes several times throughout the night as he paced the stone corridors. He tried to chide himself for it, but he kept hoping he would see her there again. He almost hoped for another chance to share prayers with her, or even just see her when no one else was around to interrupt their companionship. Every night after she had been lighting a memorial candle for her brother, the Chantry remained deserted and she was nowhere in sight.

            Until about three months later, when he suddenly felt more compelled than normal to check the Chantry as he paced the halls.

            He thought he heard the soft sound of bare feet on the stone, echoing softly in the otherwise silent night. He hurried forward and peered through the doors, and his heart beat a little faster to see her there, kneeling before the statue. He watched her for a moment as she stared at the candle before her, watching the flames.

            He remembered suddenly – it had to be the anniversary of her mother’s death.

            It had already been a year since he’d held her in his arms. It had already been a year since the first time she let him share prayers with her. Already a year since he had pulled her to him to cry against his shoulder in a moment of weakness, when he had brushed his lips against her hair before he could stop himself. He had felt like a man possessed, wanting to comfort her in any way he could, unable to keep from pressing his mouth to her silky black hair. He wasn’t sure if she’d even noticed, and he couldn’t tell if he’d wanted her to or not.

            She had smelled like rain, like a soothing thunderstorm on a spring afternoon.

            One year later and he still remembered that smell, still thought of it frequently when he wandered the halls at night.

            He hesitantly took a few steps into the Chantry and she looked over her shoulder at the sound of his boots on the stone.

            Evelyn held his gaze, and this time she didn’t look like she was going to flee or apologize.

            Instead, her intense, lightning eyes simply watched him as he approached.

            “Has it been a year?” he asked, as a way to break the silence, even though he knew the answer.

            She nodded and looked back down at the candle before her.

            “May I?” he asked, and she gave another small nod of permission. He knelt beside her, taking up his now familiar place, but this time he’d accidentally sat closer to her than he meant to, and her arm rested against his.

            She didn’t try to move away. She was wrapped once more in the blanket from her bed, but she held it closed low over her belly. It was parted and gathered again under her bosom, and his breath caught when he took in the sight of her breasts straining against the thin material of her shift. The neckline was overflowing with her ample flesh, the material thin enough he almost thought he could make out her rosy peaks in the candlelight. She was still staring at the candle, seemingly unaware of how he suddenly flushed and cleared his throat, looking away and trying to steady his breath.

            He considered fleeing when he suddenly realized the direction his mind had just wandered. He felt himself begin to harden in his breeches, and he shut his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. He almost missed her words when she finally spoke.

            “What does the Chantry say about where we go after we die?” she asked softly.

            He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes to stare at the statue above them. He waited a moment as if considering, hoping he could make his voice even when he finally answered her. “They say we – we return to the Maker.”

            “In the Fade?”

            He shrugged, and it made him more aware of her arm against his armored one. “Perhaps.”

            “Is that what you believe?” she turned to look up at him, and he hoped she couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks.

            “I do, yes,” he answered, and he gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. She was peering up at him expectantly, and her eyes were piercing like she could see into his very soul. He looked away and focused once more on Andraste before him, suddenly feeling like he needed to pray to the Maker for forgiveness. He couldn’t get a grip on his wandering mind.

            “What about – they say, well they say that to take one’s own life is to…to commit a sin in the eyes of the Maker,” she murmured, staring at the candle once more. “Where would – where would someone’s soul go, then?”

            He considered his answer. He knew what the Chantry said, but he wasn’t sure he believed that part. “I think they also return to the Maker,” he answered finally.

            “You do?” she almost sounded surprised.

            “The Maker loves all of his children, that’s what the Chantry says, and that’s – that’s what I believe,” he explained. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t return to the Maker as well.”

            He looked sideways again, and saw that she was crying silently as she stared at the flame before them. The sight tugged at his heartstrings, and before he could stop himself he reached out and lightly brushed away the tear sliding down her cheek.

            She didn’t jump or pull away, but she turned her face toward him, her eyes wide.

            Another tear was sliding down her other cheek, and he wiped it away as well, holding her gaze as he did so.

            His hand lingered near her face for a moment, but he suddenly remembered himself and lowered it back into his lap.

            For a moment they simply stared at each other, but he finally cleared his throat and looked away, again bothered by the direction his mind was wandering. This close up, he could tell there were small flecks of aqua, sea green, and gold near the center of her clear eyes. He was fighting the urge to get closer to inspect them, suddenly transfixed by their unusual colors.

            “Would – would you like to pray?” he asked.

            She thought for a moment, returning her gaze to the candle before her. “No, I – I already did. I’ve been here for a while.”

            He frowned a little, wondering at the way she confessed it. He had thought he heard her footsteps in the Chantry, as if she had just arrived. He was puzzled, but didn’t know how to ask how long she had been there.

            “When you’re ready may I – may I walk you back?” he asked.

            “I’d like that,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. She sat for a few more moments, staring at the candle as it flickered before she leaned forward and blew it out. He pushed himself to his feet and held a hand down to her. She contemplated it for a moment before she accepted and let him pull her to her feet.

            “Thank you,” she murmured. She turned and began to walk slowly out of the Chantry, still holding the blanket tight around her.

            He did his best to avoid noticing the slight heaving of her chest with her breaths and the motion of her steps. Instead he looked away and out the windows of the corridor they were walking down.

            “I – I finally won a game against the First Enchanter,” she suddenly said, and he turned to look at her. She was giving him a shy smile.

            “Congratulations,” he responded with a crooked grin. “I wish I could have seen it.”

            She gave a soft giggle. He hadn’t heard that sound in ages, and his heart soared.

            “I almost thought maybe you had. It was the day you – you gave me a sweet roll,” she looked up at him, a curious look in her eyes.

            “I – ah,” he fell silent, suddenly awkward and flustered. “I had an extra,” he fibbed.

            She raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything.

            “I’d like – that is, would you like to play chess, sometime? I’d like to see how you’ve improved,” he offered, his voice shaky with nerves.

            She considered for a moment, and shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. “That would be nice. I’ve – I’ve mi…” but she trailed off.

            He raised his eyebrows, and he felt his heart race a little.

            “I’ve missed our friendship, Cullen,” she finally confessed, her voice barely more than a breathy whisper.

            He stopped walking and she did as well, turning to face him when she realized he’d stopped.

            “I – I have as well, Evelyn,” he admitted, despite the voice in his head that told him not to.

            She was staring up into his face, her eyes sparkling in the torchlight beside her. “I’m sorry about that day,” she whispered.

            “I am as well,” he replied. “I – I believed you that it was an accident. Grayson admitted he must have frightened you, when he tried to -” but he couldn’t say it out loud. His insides suddenly twisted as he thought about the other man trying to kiss her.

            He was beginning to figure out why it bothered him so much. The realization made him look away from her and clear his throat. He took a few slow steps forward, trying to indicate to her that they should continue their walk back to her quarters.

            They carried on in silence, both caught up in their own thoughts. Neither of them was walking quickly, simply enjoying the companionship of one another as they strolled toward their destination.

            But they reached the mages’ quarters at last, and she stopped before the door to look up at him. “Friends, again, then?” she asked softly.

            He nodded as he held her gaze. “Yes, I think so,” he agreed. “Good night, Evelyn.”

            “Good night, Cullen,” she smiled and turned to enter the quarters, giving him one last fleeting look over her shoulder before she closed the door.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn was twenty now, she realized as she lay in her bed staring at the vaulted ceiling of the mage quarters. It was early morning, and she didn’t want to get out of bed just yet. She couldn’t tell how she felt, and she decided to lie in the warm cocoon of her sheets a bit longer.

            It wasn’t her age that gave her pause, since she felt the same as she did the day before.

            It was a feeling between apprehension and excitement.

            She remembered the year before, of the horrible events in the library. She couldn’t help but feel dread as she hoped that something similar wouldn’t happen this year as well.

            But she was excited too, thinking about the day ahead of her. She wasn’t helping with any lessons, and was going to practice her sketching, since she hadn’t in a while. She was going to play chess with Cullen, which they had taken up once more over the last few months after they renewed their friendship.

            And she planned, too, on sneaking out to look at the stars that night.

            She hadn’t done so in ages, but she missed the nights she used to stargaze as a little girl, of the constellations she used to try to find and the ones she used to make up. For some reason, that was all she wanted to do that night to celebrate her birthday. She wondered if it was because it would make her feel connected to her family, remembering how they used to spend time together.

            She was slightly nervous about sneaking out at night, especially since she didn’t know which Templar would be patrolling the corridors that night. She didn’t think it wise to ask Cullen, concerned she would make him suspicious about her intentions. Instead she decided to risk it.

            Her day was peaceful, her sketches reflecting her contented mood as she found some new spring blossoms growing in the courtyard and sat beside them to sketch. She felt a presence behind her after some time, and saw Cullen peering over her shoulder, trying to look as if he was just passing by. She caught his eye and smiled at him, and he gave a small nod of appreciation and encouragement before he continued on his way. Her heart raced a little as she looked back down to resume her sketching, and she was curious at the way her stomach fluttered.

            It was a pleasant feeling.

            She furrowed her brows, trying to decipher it. She was happy to have her friend back, happy to have someone to talk to and spend time with. But sometimes the look in his eyes made her heart race, and she occasionally had to stop herself from reaching out to brush one of his loose locks of hair off his face.

            She shook her head and tried to refocus on her sketch.

            He was her friend. That was all they ever could be, because even just that was more than they should be, considering their stations in life.

            Mage.

            Templar.

            She found herself bristling as she reminded herself of the words.

            When he met her for chess later that evening after supper, his hands were full. He carried a hastily, clumsily wrapped bundle, which was balanced with a napkin-wrapped something from the kitchens.

            She raised her eyebrows as he set his burdens down on the table and gestured to the seat across from her. He still always asked permission to join her. She nodded eagerly, looking between him and the items sitting on the table.

            He gave her a sheepish grin. “Happy birthday,” he said, and he waved at the items beside her.

            “Did you – did you get me a present?” she asked, completely surprised.

            He blushed and nodded. “Actually, I – I got it for you last year,” he admitted quietly.

            Her mouth opened but she was at a loss for words, and she reached for the bundles with slightly trembling hands, suddenly overcome with nervous excitement. She picked up the napkin first and unfolded it to find two large fruit pastries. She looked up at him and smiled, and he gave her a crooked grin.

            “I – I asked the cook to make something special,” he admitted softly.

            “Cullen, I – thank you, it looks delicious,” she giggled. She set the pastries down on the napkin between them and gestured for him to take one while she turned to the other gift.

            “I’m sorry, my wrapping is awful,” he murmured, sounding embarrassed.

            She merely giggled again and untied the twine before she tugged gently at the paper wrapped around the present. She unfolded it and her breath caught in her throat.

            It was several new charcoals, including a few that looked to be made from colored minerals, as well as a new small knife for sharpening them. She ran her fingers over them, momentarily at a loss for words.

            “They’re – Cullen, it’s too much,” she looked up at him wide-eyed. “I – thank you, they’re perfect.”

            He was smiling at her, eagerly watching her inspect the charcoals. “Do you – do you like the colors?”

            She nodded as she continued to stare dumbstruck at the thoughtful gift.

            “I was tempted to give them to you today when you were sketching those flowers, but I didn’t want anyone to see,” he confessed.

            She giggled and continued to nod, still unable to find the right words. She felt her eyes swimming with tears. “I don’t know what to say, except thank you, again,” she glanced up and saw him watching her. The look in his eyes made her heart speed up, and she felt the same fluttering sensation in her stomach as she had that afternoon. “I’ll – I’ll have to sketch you something, as a thank you,” she murmured.

            “I’d like that,” he answered, the soft look in his eyes still bringing heat to her cheeks.

            Suddenly she knew, there was no denying that this was in dangerous territory of being more than friendship.

            She wasn’t sure it ever had been just friendship, though, as she looked up at him and saw the way he was looking at her.

            And she wasn’t sure friendship was all she wanted, especially not now that she realized how long she had felt this way.

 

 

 

            Their chess game passed in their usual pleasant, friendly way. They nibbled the fruit pastries he had brought for them, and spoke about their childhoods and their homes. Evelyn felt slightly more flustered than normal as her mind wandered, but she tried to hide it under giddy excitement for her birthday and his present.

            She was so flustered though that he won their match.

            “It’s been a while since I beat you,” he teased. “I was starting to wonder if my chess winning days were over.”

            She giggled and blushed, not saying anything about why he had won.

            They parted ways when they were done with their match so that Evelyn could get back before curfew. She held his gift tight to her chest as she hurried through the halls, remembering her plans to sneak out and see the stars. She stashed her new charcoals with her other sketching utensils in the small cabinet beside her bed and changed into her night shift and pretended to get in bed. She waited until again only the soft noises of snores and the mages who were stealing moments of passion filled the room, and then hurried out of her bed.

            The night was warm and she didn’t take her blanket with her. She had decided she wouldn’t spend very long stargazing, just enough to satisfy her desire to see the stars overhead once more. As lenient as the Circle at Ostwick was, sometimes she still found herself missing the night sky and being out in the cool, refreshing night air.

            She darted down the corridors and rounded a corner, forgetting to look first. She ran bodily into someone and stumbled back.

            “Maker’s – Evelyn?” a deep voice hissed softly, and she felt hot, calloused hands grip her arms and catch her from falling back.

            She looked up into the warm amber eyes that had been the reason she hadn’t been paying attention to what she was doing.

            “Evelyn what are you doing out?” Cullen murmured, and she frowned slightly as she looked him over.

            He wasn’t wearing his armor, which meant he wasn’t the one on night patrol. He was wearing a loose cotton shirt and wool trousers, and he was barefoot. She had never seen him out of his armor, and she couldn’t help but notice how broad and muscular he still was even without the bulky metal. She was momentarily at a loss for words as she realized that he didn’t have gloves on and she could actually feel the rough skin of his hands on her bare arms.

            “Are you all right?” he prompted her, sounding concerned at her continued silence.

            “I’m sorry – I just – I was going to go stargaze,” she admitted softly, suddenly feeling foolish.

            “You were going to – what?” he scowled at her. “You shouldn’t be out, it’s past curfew.”

            “I know -”

            “No, Evelyn – I’m not the one on duty tonight. The Knight-Commander is.”

            She looked up at him, wide-eyed, her heart suddenly racing. “Why is the Knight-Commander -”

            “He takes the patrol at least once a month to be sure everything is as it should be,” he explained quietly. He was looking around them, trying to make sure the coast was clear. “Come on, we need to get you back – I won’t be able to keep you from getting in trouble if he catches you.”

            He maintained his grip on one of her arms and began to lead her back the way she had come, glancing around them the whole time they walked side by side in silence. He slowed suddenly and tugged her arm to get her to stop walking as well, and she listened carefully. Footsteps were sounding in the distance from the hallway leading into the one they were in.

            Cullen looked around quickly before he saw a door to their left. He opened it and pulled her in with him, closing it quietly behind them. It was a small closet, and they were pressed into it together, Evelyn up against the wall.

            “Cullen, I’m sorry, I -”

            He turned and closed the very short distance between them, bending toward her ear to bridge their height difference to try to be as quiet as possible. “Shh, Evelyn, please,” he breathed, his voice urgent and pleading.

            They were tensed, listening for the footsteps to approach and pass, both trying to calm their breaths so they wouldn’t be heard.

            He hadn’t leaned back away from her, and she was suddenly distracted from listening for the footsteps by his incredibly close proximity to her. His face was still beside hers from where he had whispered in her ear, as if he didn’t dare or want to move away. His cheek was against hers, his light layer of stubble tickling her skin, his breath on her skin giving her goose bumps.

            Her heart was pounding, and she almost worried they would get caught because it was sure to be heard by anyone walking nearby. But there were no sounds except for their quiet breathing mixing together between them.

            She turned her face slightly, hardly needing to move it at all until their noses were touching, the tip of hers resting on his cheek. She could taste his breath, her lips parted slightly and hardly a fraction of space between their mouths. Her stomach was fluttering again, and she closed her eyes.

            She didn’t have to do anything but tilt her chin the tiniest amount before she was able to barely brush her lips against his.

            She did it once, hesitantly, waiting to see what his response would be. He seemed to have stilled, but he didn’t move away. Soft as a feather, she did it again, letting her kiss linger a little this time, letting it feel more intentional. She flexed her lips slightly, moving with the gentlest pressure she could.

            He responded with his own light flexing, his hesitant and tender response mirroring hers as their lips continued to brush against each other. Neither of them was moving anything but their lips, as if terrified of breaking the spell of their tender kiss. After several soft kisses, he increased the pressure of his lips, moving them gently to capture her lips between his in turn, her full bottom lip sliding between his so that he could tug it between his.

            Moments passed, and stretched into an eternity.

            Still, they continued their chaste kiss, not moving or touching anywhere but their lips.

            Evelyn didn’t want to ever pull away. She was almost shaking with the thrill of his affectionate movements in response to her own, satisfied that she was simply feeling his lips against hers, that she was sharing breath with him.

            She’d never been kissed before, and in that moment she decided it had been worth the wait.

            He slowly raised one hand at last, gently cupping her cheek with it, his touch as tender as his kiss. His thumb lightly stroked her cheekbone, and she let out a quiet, innocent moan at the feeling of his hot skin on hers.

            The sound seemed to break the spell, and he finally raised his face from hers and peered down at her. They simply stared at one another, golden eyes peering into lightning ones intently, as if both trying to determine the others’ thoughts.

            “Evelyn,” he breathed. “I -”

            He fell silent and she waited to see if he continued. “Yes, Cullen?”

            But he still simply held her cheek and stared down into her eyes. After several long moments he finally seemed to get a hold of himself and he gave her cheek one last stroke with his thumb before he lowered his hand and stepped back a bit from her. “We should get you back,” he breathed, his voice trembling slightly.

            She sighed softly and nodded, reluctant to go. She suddenly felt like she could stay in that small closet with him forever.

            He slowly cracked the door open and peeked out, looking up and down the hall before he looked back at her and nodded. He held his hand out to her and she took it without thinking, without realizing how intimate it felt. All she knew was how natural it felt to walk side-by-side, her small, delicate hand in his hot, rough one.

            They didn’t speak, and Cullen still looked around trying to make sure the coast was clear as they walked. They didn’t run into anyone or hear any other noises, and made it to the mages’ quarters without incident.

            Evelyn glanced up at him when they reached the door, and saw the soft, almost confused look in his eyes. She shot furtive looks up and down the hall and then stood on her tiptoes. She pressed a quick, feathery kiss to the corner of his lip, the corner that always tugged up in his crooked grin. She squeezed his hand and then turned to open the door. She hesitated and looked over her shoulder at him.

            “Thank you, Cullen, for the best birthday I’ve ever had,” she told him. She smiled before she hurried through the door, closing it in his astonished, pleased face.


	8. Declarations of Body and Soul

            She had kissed him.

            She had _kissed_ him _._

            _She_ had kissed _him._

            Cullen lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling above him, feeling almost in shock at what had happened. He had simply been heading back from the baths, taking his time and dreading trying to sleep that night since he wasn’t on night patrol. His nightmares were still hit or miss, some nights better than others, but every night when he thought about going to sleep he was filled with apprehension and anxiety. He worried every time he lay down that he was setting himself up for night terrors, and sleep was often hard to find.

            He’d been lost in thought, distracting himself thinking about their chess game, thinking about the look in her eyes after she saw his gift. He kept thinking about how much better things had been the last few months, once they had agreed to be friends again. He thought about the way she looked taking eager bites of the pastry he had bribed the cook to make for her. He still couldn’t figure out why, but he loved watching her eat.

            He loved watching her do anything, no matter how mundane.

            He had been thinking about all of the times she had smiled at him that day, of the tender look in her eyes when they met his. He had been musing over how he was surely the only one who thought about those things, the only one who felt the way he did. He felt positive she couldn’t feel that way, not about _him_.

            And then she’d run into him, her soft curves pressed against his body for the brief moment when they collided. He hadn’t been wearing armor, for the first time able to feel her full against him.

            He’d secretly wanted to see her, if he was being honest with himself, but he certainly hadn’t thought it would actually happen.

            His eagerness to see her had been tempered by his fear that they would get caught together, though, his joy at her presence fading as he rushed her through the halls.

            He’d been unable to pull away after he hushed her and begged her to stay quiet as they hid in the closet. The smell of rain had overloaded his senses until it had been all he could think about. He could feel her cheek against his. He could feel her breath warm on his skin.

            He had been standing stock still, fighting the urge to touch her or do anything, trying to steady his breath and his heart. Trying to resist temptation.

            And then she had turned her face, and so lightly brushed her lips against his.

            He was lost, in that moment.

            No part of him had thought about pulling away, no part of him had thought about how it was wrong or how he shouldn’t. All he had thought about was the feeling of her soft lips tenderly pressing to his, the feeling of her hot breath against his mouth, mingling with his. She had moved so timidly, so gently, and he had wondered at the curious way she had taken the initiative but then seemed so hesitant after she did.

            It was like she wanted it, but had no experience or wasn’t confident that he wanted her as well.

            It had been the best feeling he had ever experienced, when he thought about it.

            He wondered if he should have told her that.

            Year and years ago, he had kissed two of the girls in Honnleath, mostly as a dare and a joke before he left for Templar training. He had just been a young lad, almost still a child. Since he had become a Templar, there had been nothing.

            He felt like this had been the first real kiss of his life. He was happy that he felt that way, happy that the event felt pure and unspoiled.

            He tried not to think about the cage, about Kinloch, not letting it ruin his night or the wonderful memories he had of the light pressure of her lips against his. His skin still felt a slight tingle on it, as if he were still brushing his lips against hers. He was amazed that his horrible recollections were actually blocked out and stifled by the recollection of her sweet, chaste kiss, and the lingering echo of it on his mouth.

            The terror was almost always there, lurking under the surface. Yet now, somehow, it was gone.

            He couldn’t think about it at all. He was too overjoyed by what had happened.

            She cared for him too.

            She had to, the way that she had kissed him, the way that she had looked at him.

            They had known each other for almost two years now, and he realized it had been almost two years of him longing for her. It had taken him so long to see it, to see past their differences. To get past the difficulties.

            But he knew, from that first time he saw her hurry into the library, he had wanted her. He had wanted this.

            He smiled to himself and closed his eyes, for once not fearing sleep or what it may bring. He was confident it could mean dreams of that day, of that evening. Of the twinkling in her translucent eyes, of the feeling of her soft lips moving against his like a feather.

            He fell into peaceful, dreamless slumber.

 

 

 

            _“Oh!”_ he heard a voice gasp softly from his left, and turned his head to see who was there.

            She was standing at the end of the bookshelf near him, holding a large tome to her chest. Her eyes were wide at the sight of him, but the corners of her lips were twitching like she was fighting a wide grin.

            “Hello,” she murmured.

            “H-hello,” he greeted her, and he paced along the library wall to get closer to her. He pretended like he was trying to see down the rows. “How are you?”

            She frowned slightly, no doubt noticing the stiffness in his voice. He wasn’t good at hidings things, though, and found himself worried he’d give something away if he didn’t try to keep his voice firm.

            Not to mention the war going on inside his mind. He was the Knight-Captain. She was one of his charges.

            Templar.

            Mage.

            But he frowned when he thought the words. Somehow they had lost their usual meaning when he thought of her, when he thought of them.

            Woman.

            Man.

            Cullen.

            Evelyn.

             Those words were more applicable descriptions, he found.

            She gave him a timid smile finally. “I’m fine, just doing some research,” she answered. “Are you – are you enjoying the cooler weather today? I know Ferelden was probably much, um, colder, than Ostwick.”

            He had to keep himself from laughing that she was bringing up the weather. He saw her eyes flit around and he knew she was keeping it up in case anyone overheard. He knew though that she couldn’t keep herself from speaking with him, about any topic. Just like him, she wanted to be near him, even if it meant discussing the weather.

            “It’s nice, yes,” he gave her a small crooked grin. He continued walking further down the wall, and was happy when she caught the hint and moved along the rows of bookcases with him. “What are you researching?”

            “Oh, just – something about lyrium,” she answered.

            Somehow the answer made him chafe and he tugged the collar of his armor. He tried not to think about it, tried not to think about his daily habit. She furrowed her brows watching him and he tried to hide the look on his face.

            “Are you helping with lessons today?” he asked, intending to change the subject.

            “No, not today,” she smiled. “I was thinking I may do some sketching, though.”

            He could tell it was an invitation, a hint of where he could find her later.

            “It’s a beautiful day for it,” he nodded his head.

            She looked down at the tome she was holding and seemed to think for a moment. “I seem to have forgotten something I need – over – over there,” she looked at him, holding his gaze, before she looked at a row pointedly. He quirked a brow slightly but then nodded and turned away from her.

            His heart was racing as she hurried off to the row. He could tell she had hurried off to find a deserted corner, somewhere they wouldn’t be seen, but his rational mind told him not to do it. He closed his eyes for a moment, warring with himself.

            The memory of her tender kiss broke him.

            With a prayer of forgiveness to the Maker he slowly strode along the wall, looking down the rows as if checking on his charges, even though the rows were almost all empty. He finally reached the farthest one, farthest from the windows and the torches, partially hidden in shadow even in the daylight. He glanced down it and saw her waiting eagerly, almost hesitantly for him.

            His breath caught in his throat, but his feet carried him forward despite himself. She looked so beautiful, so timid and innocent, as if they weren’t really breaking the rules but just wanted privacy.

            He walked toward her, and she watched his approach with a soft look in her clear eyes until he was standing before her. Her neck was craning to look up at his height, and her lips trembled slightly as she gave him a small smile.

            He bent slowly, almost waiting to see if she suddenly told him no. She had initiated the last time, and leaning down to kiss her now felt like he was taking a risk. But her eyelashes fluttered shut and her lips relaxed and parted ever so slightly.

            He pressed his lips against hers, tenderly at first, mimicking the previous evening of soft brushes and light pressure. She responded in kind, but after several moments passed he stepped closer and cupped her cheeks in his hands and held her face up to his. He slanted his mouth against hers, and slowly flicked her lips with his tongue.

            She rested a hand against his chest but she parted her lips, allowing him to slip his tongue inside her mouth. His heart was racing as he tentatively searched hers out, and he gave it a few soft touches until he felt her return the gesture. Their tongues slid against each other, tasting each other, feeling each other for the first time. The sweet, chaste nature of their kiss gave way to gentle passion, hinting at the intense longing they felt for one another.

            Evelyn almost seemed like her knees weakened. She was suddenly leaning against him, both of her hands resting on the armor of his chest. She was responding to his tongue almost clumsily but eagerly, and he began to feel like he was stealing her breaths from her with his kiss. They were coming out like soft gasps, but he twisted his mouth against hers until he hoped he was muffling the sounds of her breathless response.

            Something finally clicked in his mind and he realized he needed to stop, that someone could walk around the corner at any time.

            He pulled away and stared down at her for a moment, but he almost caved and kissed her once more when he saw the look in her eyes as she peered up at him.

            “Evelyn, I – I don’t -” he began in a whisper, furrowing his brows and feeling like he needed to explain. He suddenly rubbed his forehead as duty came rushing back into his mind. “We shouldn’t, we can’t -”

            “Cullen, I – I care about you,” she murmured. “More than…more than I thought -”

            His heart raced and his stomach felt like it did somersaults in response to her tender declaration.

            “Please, do you – do you care about me, too?’ she asked, and the look in her eyes nearly tore him apart. She looked pained, like she thought maybe he would say no.

            “Yes I do, Evelyn,” he whispered. He took one more small step toward her, closing any last bit of distance that remained between them until her curves were pressed against his heavy armor. “I care about you more than I’ve ever – than I could ever -” he trailed off, unsure how to put into words how he felt. He had never experienced this, and he certainly never expected to experience it about a mage. He wasn’t sure how to explain.

            She smiled, and her eyes seemed to well with tears. “Are we -” she hesitated and considered him for a moment. She took a deep breath before she tried again. “I – I want to be…to be yours,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Cullen, tell me we can be together, tell me we belong to one another. That we can – can do this, despite everything. Please.”

            He stared down at her for several long moments.

            For a moment he was silent as he absorbed her words. He had never expected that she would actually feel this way, that she would actually want him this way.

            And not just _want_ him, but care for him and want to be with him.

            He forgot duty, he forgot their positions, he forgot everything that could come between them. All he thought about was how he felt when he was near her, when he saw her smile, when he felt her tender kiss. Two years of thinking of her, and now she was asking him to be together.

            He never thought of denying her.

            “Yes, Evelyn,” he answered tenderly, his voice also barely audible. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, lightly stroking her cheekbone with his gloved thumb, wishing he could actually touch it with his skin as he had the night before. “Maker take me, but I – I want this, I want you – more than anything.”

            Her lips parted in a wide grin and she nodded eagerly. “Nothing could make me happier.”

 

* * *

 

             “Are you all right, dear?” the First Enchanter asked, interrupting her thoughts.

            “Hm? Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” she murmured hurriedly. “I was just thinking.”

            Gabrielle pursed her lips and regarded her carefully, and Evelyn tried to refocus on the board between them, not wanting to give it away.

            They continued their game, Evelyn attempting not to get distracted by her memories of the kiss Cullen had stolen from her that morning. She did her best to keep the First Enchanter from asking about her dreamy mood, the happiness that now seemed to permeate her every moment.

            The last two months had passed like she was suddenly stuck in paradise, and she never wanted to leave.

            Cullen and she frequently played chess, shooting one another secret, warm smiles across the board. They spent their time talking, getting to know one another better. He told her stories of Honnleath, he told her about Templar training. She even began to open up to him, to tell him about her family, of what the Circle had been like before he had arrived.

            He also sought her out when she was sketching to peer over her shoulder at her work, or he watched her training in the grounds, giving her encouraging smiles as she practiced her magic. Whenever they could steal a moment in the library or some other deserted corner, he pressed kisses to her lips.

            She noticed they were becoming more urgent, more feverish, but her own responses were increasing in impatience as well. She’d never experienced this longing before, this small taste of fulfillment that somehow only led to more yearning. It was satisfying, but she was beginning to want more.

            At night in the quarters she could hear other mages sneaking into one another’s beds, and she felt a new curiosity growing in her as she listened to the hasty, muffled noises drifting through the darkness. Some nights she lay listening to the creaking of the beds, the wooden bed frames thudding quietly against the walls, and the rapid slapping of flesh against flesh that was accented by hushed moans. Her cheeks flushed, her body became hot, and a throbbing began between her legs as she unashamedly eavesdropped on the sounds. She remembered the feeling of Cullen’s tongue in her mouth, the way that he always gripped her waist or cupped her face as he pressed her against a wall.

            She’d been embarrassed by the noises floating through the mages’ quarters at night before, but now they stoked her longing as she imagined being the one making the noises instead. Some nights the feeling, hot and wet between her legs, was too much for her and she slipped a hand into her smallclothes to try to find some relief. She bit her lower lip, clenching her eyes shut tight as she quickly stroked her small pearl, trying to stifle her moans as she imagined Cullen lying atop her, moving above her. An ache had begun in her lower belly, a feeling of needing to be filled, and even after she found her hurried release with her fingers she didn’t feel completely sated.

            Though she spent her nights fantasizing about him, about wanting to do more than steal kisses from one another, she was hesitant to act on it when she thought about it during the day. They had said they could do this, despite the rules and everything standing between them. But the reality was more daunting than their naïve dreams of making things work between them. She had let herself escape into her happiness, trying her best to ignore the truth of their situation. She knew though how serious things would be if they got caught, if anyone found out about them.

            He was the Knight-Captain, and she was one of his charges.

            Their punishments would be severe. She worried, too, about what others might think of him, that they would assume he had taken advantage. She had never felt like she had been coerced, but she knew others wouldn’t see it that way. She didn’t want anyone to be able to accuse him of abusing his power. She didn’t want anyone to think poorly of him.

            She loved him, she knew that now, and when she really thought about it, she had started it. She had worked up the nerve to kiss him, she had asked him to risk their freedom to be together. The thought of anyone disparaging that or making it anything other than what it was upset her, and she prayed with increasing frequency that no one ever find out.

 

* * *

 

            It was already her birthday again, and Cullen was trying to wrap the small book of poems he had gotten for her. But again, his attempts at wrapping with parchment were less than successful, and he felt embarrassed as he wondered why he even tried. Time was still flying so quickly, and he realized as he tied the twine around the gift that it had been a year since she had first kissed him.

            It had been a year since he had become the happiest he had ever been.

            His duties felt like less of a burden now, his night terrors had lessened considerably. He spent his free time speaking with her, playing chess or finding what moments of joy they could together. He frequently pulled her into corners to steal kisses, and though he desperately wished for more he managed to restrain himself.

            They had maintained secrecy for a year, but he felt often like they were walking on thin ice, like at any moment they could plummet into despair. They were cautious, though, and had managed a year without any close calls. As much as they both seemed tempted for her to sneak out at night to see him, she never did. The only two times in the year that she had were when she had been lighting candles for her brother and her mother, marking two years since their passing. He had prayed with her, had walked her back each time, but they had only kissed before she returned to her quarters.

            He was hesitant, and couldn’t bring himself to ask for more. He worried what would be done to her if anyone ever found out. He wondered what punishments the normally lenient Circle would decide on for either of them if they were discovered. Cullen tried not to focus on ‘what ifs,’ though, instead trying to bury himself in the happiness he experienced whenever she was near, or that he thought of her.

            He passed the day smiling at her every time she looked his way, secretly hoping she would like the gift he had gotten for her. He planned to give it to her before curfew, when they could steal a few moments together with less chance of being caught. She was helping with lessons and playing chess with Gabrielle that day, and so he continued his patrols, eagerly anticipating the few minutes they would have before he began night patrols.

            He waited for her in the dark corner of the courtyard they had agreed upon, a place they frequently rendezvoused for a few stolen moments. He only waited a few minutes before she came hurrying toward him, almost skipping in her eagerness.

            No one else was around, and she crashed into his outstretched arms, throwing her own around his neck as he lifted her to him so he could reach her lips. She was smiling against his kiss, their lips and tongues tangling together in the natural way they always did, the way that made the rest of Thedas fall away until he forgot they had to hide this joy. He held her tight against his armored chest for several long moments, simply savoring their embrace, the scent of rain and taste of her filling his senses.

            Finally she pulled away and looked down into his eyes, her feet dangling against his armored shins.

            “Happy birthday, Evelyn,” he murmured, and she giggled.

            “Thank you,” she beamed as he set her back down.

            He held out her gift and her eyes widened. “You didn’t have to get me anything, last year’s gift was -”

            “It was last year’s. Take it, dearest, I wanted to get you something special,” he held it out more insistently and she took it with a wide grin.

            She opened the wrapping, moving carefully as if it were precious and delicate, just as she had the previous year. It was endearing, considering how horrible a job he had done once again. She finally uncovered the book and studied it, a soft look in her eyes. “Darling, I love it.”

            “I – it’s my favorite book of poems, I thought maybe you’d enjoy them,” he told her, feeling slightly sheepish. It had taken him ages to confess his love of poetry to her, and she had seemed surprised but delighted when he spoke of it. “It has that poem I gave you in it, the one I slipped you -”

            She giggled. “The one you slipped me in the library. I remember, I have it tucked in my pillow.”

            The words made his heart race, thinking of his love letter resting under her head as she slept. It felt incredibly intimate, and perfectly _right_.

            “Are you on night patrols again?” she asked.

            “Yes, I should be getting to them soon. I just wanted a chance to see you in private, today,” he answered. She looked up at him, a soft look in her eyes.

            The look that always melted him, the look that had stolen his heart.

            He took her back into his arms and slowly backed her into the wall behind her, unable to resist stealing more kisses before he left her. She closed her eyes and eagerly parted her lips, and he began moving his mouth against hers greedily. She let out soft moans as their tongues danced, and it was music to his ears. He tightened his hold on her waist, and suddenly couldn’t fight temptation any longer.

            He’d never tried to touch her, and it had seemed like there was an unspoken barrier between the two of them. It was as if they only allowed themselves kisses in their unspoken fears of discovery, as if only allowing kisses made things feel less risky. It was a naïve hope, but after a year of falling more deeply in love from mere conversations and fevered kisses, he gave in to his desperate longing.

            He slid his hands up her waist, one sliding to her neck to hold the back of her head, the other sliding tentatively over one of her breasts. She gasped against his mouth but instead of trying to pull away, she leaned into his touch. He felt dizzy from the response, and he allowed himself to begin to caress her, moving intentionally and trying to excite her through her robes. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and gently nibbled it, eliciting a moan from his throat.

            He kept her pushed against the wall, caressing her enthusiastically, feeling himself harden where he was pressed against her soft body.

            She pulled away with a gasp, and her clear eyes were wide as they met his. “Cullen, I want -”

            But he released her and stepped away, shaking his head. “Evelyn we…I shouldn’t have – Maker’s breath, I’m not even sure what I want to say,” he muttered, feeling suddenly frustrated.

            “I love you,” she whispered softly, and he turned to look at her again with his eyebrows raised.

            “I love you, too,” he answered, waiting only an instant before he followed her declaration with his own.

            “Then why won’t -” she was frowning slightly, almost looking hurt.

            “I suppose I’m scared,” he admitted. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you, I don’t want anyone to find out, or – Maker forbid, what if I got you with child? Evelyn we’re already taking a risk.”

            “I know we are, Cullen,” she murmured. “But I can’t stand it. I can’t stop thinking about you, all the time. I love you, and my – my heart says it’s worth the risk. You’re worth the risk.”

            He stared at her for a moment, lost in indecision. “I have night patrols, I – I should go,” he sighed. She looked away from him, hurt that he was leaving. “Please, Evelyn, let’s – give me time to think, we’ll talk about this another time. I – I love you.”

            He felt free, now that he could actually say it. She nodded a little sadly, but softly whispered, “I love you, too.”

            He kissed her forehead, holding her cheeks as he did so, and he smiled down at her reassuringly before he turned to begin his watch.

            Cullen moved as if through a fog, as if he was in a dream. He was thankful to be patrolling again while the Circle was deserted, so that he could think. He mulled over everything they had said, of the question they had finally acknowledged that had lingered between them for so long. He had almost known her for three years, now, and he knew he had never expected to feel this way for anyone. He had never expected to love someone so intensely. But that love often felt overshadowed by trepidation, by fear, by doubt, by the knowledge that at the end, there was no future for them.

            What could they do but continue to steal kisses and caresses in corners of the Circle, until the end of their days or until, Maker forbid, one of them got sent away to another Circle? He couldn’t shake the feeling. He was beginning to wonder if they should have continued as friends, instead of letting themselves be free with their love and their feelings.

            He was distracted from his thoughts by a sound from the Chantry, and he frowned as he approached. His heart sped a little, thinking he knew who it might be. He considered not walking through the door, considered not seeking her out. Instead he continued forward like a man possessed, unable to resist. He was curious why she was out, but if he had to be honest with himself – he was secretly thrilled that she was.

            “Evelyn, what are you doing?” he asked as he approached where she knelt before the statue.

            She looked up at him sheepishly. “I hoped maybe I could sneak in here before you caught me…I wanted to pray in the Chantry, for once, instead of my bed,” she confessed.

            He furrowed his brows. “What prayers brought you out after curfew again?”

            She sighed and looked back at the statue of Andraste. “I was praying for the Maker’s favor, that – that we can stay together. That maybe no one will ever…”

            She trailed off and he stared down at her, unsure of what to say. He often prayed similarly, hoping against the odds that their romance wouldn’t go the same way the tragedies that lined the library shelves always did.

            “You should get back, Evelyn, it’s cold,” he finally said. He tried to avoid the sight of her pert nipples under the thin material of her shift, but his eyes kept lowering to that view despite himself. He remembered only an hour or two before when he had been holding one in his hand, caressing it to his heart’s content, and he cleared his throat.

            She merely raised her gaze to his and stared at him for a moment. She seemed to be considering something. After several moments passed she stood with a sigh and took a few steps toward him.

            “All right, I’ll go back. May I have a kiss before I go, Cullen?” she asked sweetly, smiling up at him.

            He gave her a crooked grin and leaned forward immediately to oblige. He pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, but after several moments he twisted his mouth against hers to deepen their embrace.

            She moaned lightly, her arms wrapping around his neck, and they swayed. He took several steps toward the wall beside them, slowly guiding her back against it. He had only meant for it to be a brief kiss, but he was overwhelmed by the memory of their earlier declarations, of the sound of her voice saying –

            “I love you, Cullen,” she murmured against his lips, and he stared down at her.

            He was lost.

            He fumbled with his gloves for a moment, trying to pull his gauntlets off. He wanted to feel her skin, he wanted to hold her cheeks, he wanted to caress her.

            He dropped his gloves beside them and the clatter they made echoed through the still air. He had wanted to touch her face but his hands instead brushed over her shoulders, and he slipped the thin straps of her shift off her shoulders until her chest was bared.

            “Evelyn,” he moaned when he saw her full breasts finally exposed to him. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

            She bit her lip and leaned her head back against the wall as he began caressing her with his rough hands. Her skin was cool to the touch, and a faint blush was spreading across her chest and up her neck. He palmed her breasts and lightly pinched her nipples, trying to steady his overeager nerves. He’d never touched anyone so intimately, and he swallowed hard before he leaned forward to kiss her again.

            Her fingers were running through the hair at the back of his neck, her nails lightly dragging along his scalp as she gasped and moaned against his lips.

            “Cullen – I want you, I want this. I love you,” she whispered breathlessly. “Please, love – please. Please.”

            He stared down at her face, his eyes boring into hers as his mind churned. He wanted her, too. He wanted this more than anything.

            “I love you, Evelyn,” he murmured, and like a man possessed he reached down to her thighs and began to slide her shift up over her hips.

            She sucked a sharp breath in and her eyelashes fluttered as he slid his fingers into her smallclothes. His heart was racing. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as it raced through his veins. He pressed gentle kisses to her lips and her neck as he clumsily slid his fingers along her slit, finding heat and wetness between her lips. He wanted to blush at his inexperience and he would have if he hadn’t also known she was just as untouched as he was. He vaguely knew what to look for, and he felt certain he had found it when he heard her breath catch in her throat.

            “Yes, Cullen,” she breathed, her fingers twisting tighter in his hair.

            For a few moments he simply touched her, watching her response and trying to still his mind. When she let out a soft whimper he felt himself throb in his breeches and he finally removed his fingers from her. She looked up at him, confused for a moment until she felt him push her smallclothes down. She shifted her legs and let them fall, stepping out of them and leaving them at her feet on the floor.

            He fumbled with the sash that draped his hips, pushing it aside so he could reach the laces of his breeches. He hurriedly undid them and freed himself, and he heard her breath catch when she saw his thick length.

            “Evelyn, are you sure-” he asked, suddenly concerned.

            “Yes,” she whispered, trying to pull him down for another kiss.

            He crushed his lips against hers, the kiss turning sloppy as he tried to reassure her. He reached a hand down and grabbed one of her thighs, pulling it to the side and wrapping it around his hips. His sudden impatience seemed matched by hers as she clung to him and tried to steady herself against the wall. Neither of them took the time to consider moving or lying down, and he lifted her with his powerful hands until he could reach her entrance.

            He hesitated for only a moment before he slowly pushed himself into her tight, wet opening, easing himself past the resistance he encountered. She inhaled sharply and he stared into her face to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lip, but the corners of her mouth were twitching like she wanted to smile. Once he had pushed in to the hilt she moaned and finally opened her eyes to look up at him.

            He stayed still, taking deep breaths and trying to steady his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment so he couldn’t see her naked breasts, trying not to lose himself too soon. When he felt confident he could continue, he slowly started jerking his hips, moving at a slow pace to ease them both in to the new feeling.

            Evelyn was moaning softly, little cries escaping her lips each time he thrust into her. She gripped his armored shoulders more tightly, clinging desperately to him as he held her against the wall and moved within her. She whimpered again, and soon was breathing his name and uttering desperate pleas to the Maker. He watched in awe as she began to tremble and he hastily pressed his mouth to hers as she sobbed his name more loudly as she came undone.

            He gasped as he felt her clench around him, experiencing a sudden tingling and throbbing around him as she tried to roll her hips against his in response. It was too much, the feeling overwhelming him with pleasure. He suddenly pulled away from her with a groan as he spilled his release, coating her thighs in the hot, sticky mess.

            They were breathing heavily, gasping for air and trying to steady themselves. He rested his forehead against hers, feeling like his world was spinning.

            The realization of what he had just done hit him, and he was overcome with a mixture of emotions.

            He had taken her.

            He had taken her in the _Chantry_ , when he was supposed to be patrolling the halls.

            But she had enjoyed it, and Maker forgive him, so had he. He felt like he had found heaven.

            “Evelyn,” he murmured after a long moment. “Love, are you all right?”

            She gave a small, breathless giggle. “Yes,” she whispered. “Are you?”

            He looked at her with a crooked grin. “I’m better than all right.”

            She furrowed her brows a little and her eyes wandered over his face for a moment. “You don’t regret it?”

            He shook his head. “I could never regret you.”

            The smile she gave him took his breath away.

            They finally parted and readjusted themselves, Evelyn putting her smallclothes back on as he tucked himself back into his breeches and fastened them. He picked his gauntlets up and put them on as they began to make their way from the Chantry. They were silent except for their deep breaths, both still trying to steady themselves.

            He escorted her back to the mages’ quarters, and she turned to face him before she went in.

            “Good night, love,” she murmured, and she stood on her tiptoes to press a deep kiss to his lips. “I know I said last year was my best birthday, but at this point…I’m looking forward to many more, because they keep getting better and better, now that I have you.”

            He smiled and kissed her one last time. “I love you, Evelyn.”

            “I love you, too. Always.”


	9. 'Cause You Are, The Only One

            Evelyn _ached_.

            And it was the most delicious ache she had ever experienced in her life, unlike anything she thought she would ever feel.

            She pulled her sheets over herself as she got into her bed and took a deep breath, her mind reeling from what had just happened.

            _He had been inside her._

            She smiled and closed her eyes, savoring the ache she felt, the lingering feeling of how he had stretched her, of how he had made her fit his size like a glove. Her back felt sore from the cold stone she had been pressed against, and the front of her chafed a bit from the way the metal of his armor had pushed into her with his movements. Her body was still trembling, her legs quaking, her heart still not quieting from her excitement and satisfaction.

            The insides of her thighs were sticky from his release, her smallclothes wet and reminding her of her own responses to what had happened. She hadn’t known how wonderful it could feel, she hadn’t known how intense the pleasure could be. And still she couldn’t get over the knowledge that he had been moving within her, like they had been one person, joined in the act of their passion.

            She lay awake for a long time, playing the memory over and over in her head. She was overcome with excitement, with perfect contentment. After a long time her eyes drooped; she didn’t remember falling asleep but her dreams were full of kisses and the soft sounds of love.

            When she awoke in the morning she was smiling, and she instantly reminded herself why she felt so perfectly satisfied. She closed her eyes and conjured the image of his face in the moment of ecstasy, his furrowed brows and crooked grin as he found his release.

            She moved through the morning as if in a dream, constantly looking around herself for him. She didn’t see him until the midday meal, and her heart stopped as she caught his eye across the tables. For a moment they simply stared at one another, and then her face broke into a smile. He returned it, and she could see the warmth of his eyes from this distance as they moved slowly over her body.

            The look in his eyes was pure lust, pure love, and she felt her breath catch at the implied memories he was reminding her of with his gaze. It felt possessive, but so perfectly right.

            That afternoon she sat sketching in the courtyard, and he came out to continue his watch. She saw him glance around, carefully checking to see if anyone’s attention was on them. She eagerly took in the sight of him as he determined the coast was clear and paced near her.

            “I don’t have night duties,” he murmured once he was near enough for her to hear.

            “Oh,” she breathed, and he gave her a crooked grin and a soft wink before he continued on his way.

            Her heart raced the whole rest of the day, and time seemed to drag on until she was positively shaking with anticipation. She knew, without him having to say anything else to her, what she would do that night.

            Once it was finally past curfew, after a tortuously slow evening, she lay in bed listening impatiently to make sure everyone else had fallen asleep. She waited until just after it finally fell quiet, and then darted out of the room as quickly as she could. She moved stealthily through the halls, she checked every corner, feeling as if she was holding her breath the entire time she raced through the Circle to his room.

            She found his door and knocked as softly as she could, waiting and bouncing on her toes in excitement as she looked around herself cautiously. It took only a moment and she heard quick footsteps, bare feet hitting the stone before the door opened. She scurried inside and he shut the door behind her, and for a moment they just stared at one another.

            He wasn’t wearing his armor, instead dressed in the cotton shirt and wool trousers he had been in the night she had first kissed him.

            He turned the lock of the door, holding her gaze as he did so.

            “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything today,” he began after a long moment of silence. “I was – I was worried somehow I’d give it away if I spoke with you.”

            She giggled. “It’s all right, I thought the same.”

            He grinned at her, and after just another breath of a pause he took two long strides and picked her up in his strong arms, lifting her and walking forward in one fluid movement. She wrapped her legs around him, her shift bunching around her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck and twisted her fingers into his curls.

            “I – I’ve felt awful all day, last night…” he hesitated as he laid her back on the bed and stretched out on top of her. He propped himself on his elbows, and she frowned up into his face.

            “You don’t reg -” her stomach twisted in knots, hoping he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying.

            “No, no, I – it didn’t exactly go how I wanted it to,” he hurriedly interjected to assure her with an embarrassed chuckle. “I just wanted you so much, but I always dreamed I would…take more time with you. That I wouldn’t be in my armor.”

            She giggled softly. “You don’t need to apologize, Cullen. I thought it was perfect,” she tilted her face and pressed her lips to his. “Although you’re right, maybe without the armor it may have been better.”

            “All I mean is,” he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it gently. “I intend to take more time with you tonight, if that’s all right with you.”

            She trembled at his words, at the look in his eyes. “I’d like that.”

            His crooked grin spread over his face as he slid his hands up her sides, her shift pooling above his hands as they continued their path up. She lifted her arms and he dragged it over her head and threw it over his shoulder. It floated down and landed beside the bed, quickly followed by his cotton shirt and wool trousers, and then at last her smallclothes.

            She looked over his body and moaned, finally getting to see all of him in his natural glory.

            And _Maker_ was he truly _glorious_.

            Every muscle of his body was chiseled from all of his training and hard work, evidence of the active, determined life he led. He had a small dusting of golden hair across his chest that led into a trail down to his abdomen, continuing lower past his navel to the large gathering around his cock. He was already hard, and her eyelashes fluttered as she took in the sight of him again, pointing eagerly at her and bobbing slightly with its excited weight.

            He repositioned himself over her, propped above her with his hands. She watched as his thick thighs flexed as he used his knees to spread her legs until he could lie between them. He was still smirking at her, his eyes wandering over her body greedily – like a man who had been denied water for too long and was now faced with an oasis.

            “Evelyn, love,” he murmured huskily. He leaned forward and brushed his lips teasingly against hers, the feeling somehow innocent but possessive and suggestive. “I thought about you all day. I want to touch you – I want to taste every inch of you.”

            She moaned, her eyes closing and her back arching slightly as she felt herself tremble again at his words. “Yes, Cullen, I want that too.”

            He kissed her deeply, one hand wandering over her body and caressing, grabbing her, leaving trails to mark his fingers’ progress across her flesh. He slid his mouth down her chin to her neck, making her gasp and moan as he sucked softly on the column of her throat, careful not to leave any marks. He paused to run his tongue on the spot beneath her ear, and she gave a soft cry. He raised his head and grinned at her again before he shifted and began to move lower over her body. His hot mouth left a trail of wetness across her chest, and he flicked and sucked both of her breasts’ hardened peaks. The contact against her flesh was electric, and she felt her breath coming out in gasps, no longer able to take deep breaths to steady herself as he moved his attention from one nipple to the next.

            He finally continued his path lower, one hand maintaining a firm grip on her breast as he ran his tongue down the tight skin of her belly. “Evelyn,” he murmured against her as he shifted and grabbed her hips with both hands, sliding down and positioning his mouth above the juncture of her legs. “Maker’s breath, you’re exquisite.”

            She moaned, biting her lip as she felt his hot breath against her excited sex. She couldn’t tell for a moment if he was hesitating or teasing, but either way she felt her head spin until she thought she might black out in pure anticipation. Finally his tongue darted out and slid along her, pushing into her wet folds as he tasted her.

            She gave a startled cry, the feeling unlike anything she had experienced. He glanced up at her, and for a moment she saw the shyness and endearing warmth she loved so much as he made sure she was all right. She gave him a weak smile and nodded her head, and he lowered his face once more. He used one hand to spread her and flicked her with his tongue, running it from top to bottom, lingering and pressing it flat against her pearl. He lowered it once more to her opening to catch her nectar as it poured out of her, slipping his tongue within her as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste.         

            Evelyn moaned with each of his movements, her breathing labored as she tried to grasp the sensations coursing through her. At times his actions seemed clumsy, and oddly selfish, as if everything he did was for his benefit, for his attempts to taste her as he had said he wanted to. He continued licking her, lapping at her with an eagerness that excited her to new heights, to pleasure she didn’t even know existed. After a long time of being unable to comprehend anything beyond the feeling of his tender work with his tongue, she suddenly felt herself pushed over the edge and she cried his name softly as she began to writhe. She rolled her hips against his mouth and he used a hand to steady her, continuing to run his tongue along her to prolong it.

            She collapsed and went limp on the bed, breathing heavily and he finally raised his face. He knelt back on his heels and looked down at her, taking in the sight of her spent with pleasure as he wiped his face.

            “Cullen,” she murmured languidly. “Love, that – I -”

            He chuckled and stretched over her once more, pressing his lips to hers. “I just wanted to taste how sweet you are. Maker, Evelyn, you’re perfect.”

            She giggled breathlessly and opened her eyes again to look into his face. He was staring at her with warm love in his eyes, and the sight was enough to set her soul aflame once more.

            “Evelyn,” he breathed against her lips, and he almost sounded sheepish. “Will you touch me?”

            She smiled sweetly at him and nodded enthusiastically, reaching down slightly timidly to where his hard length rested against her thigh. She took him in her hand and he groaned, clenching his eyes shut as he rested his forehead against hers. It was heavy in her hand but the skin was so smooth and velvety she found herself stroking it eagerly, enjoying the feeling of it against her fingertips. She watched his face, taking in his keen reactions as she trailed her fingers over him, taking note of how he frowned sharply and grinned when she closed her fingers around him and pumped her hand along him a few times.

            “ _Maker_ ,” he muttered. He lifted his forehead from hers and gave her a smile before he reached down to gently remove her hand from him. He lifted her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to them before he let them go, and then took his length in his hand and pressed it to her opening. He raised his gaze to hers, not pushing within, and she smiled and nodded her consent, spreading her legs wide to try to help accommodate him.

            He pushed inside slowly but in one fluid motion, eliciting a low groan from both of them. He paused once he was inside all the way, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed as he took a deep breath.

            “I love you,” she moaned, compelled to say it. She bit her lip and shifted her hips, grasping his back with her fingers as he pressed himself down on top of her.

            “Evelyn, I love you,” he breathed and he began moving. He thrust into her slowly at first, but soon he was rolling his hips faster, the sound of their hips and thighs colliding echoing through his small room. He rested an elbow by her head and ran his fingers through her hair, pressing sloppy kisses to her lips as he moved against her. “I never thought – I never wanted anyone like this. I love you, I love you…” and he trailed off, still whispering soft words of love against her lips.

            She moaned and braced her feet by his knees, responding eagerly to his thrusts with her hips, trying to meet his passion with her own. He was gasping, they were both moaning, and the sounds of stolen pleasure that she had heard for years in the mages’ quarters filled the room. And finally, they were because of her. They were because he was inside her, because they were one person moving together toward a shared euphoria that she had never been able to fully realize until now.

            When she fell apart it was with his name pouring from her lips, her back arching and her hips jerking wildly against his, her nails digging into his back as she felt tears trickle from the corners of her eyes with the intensity. He finished a moment later, withdrawing and spilling his release on her belly, branding her with the hot presence of his seed on her.

            Nothing had ever been more meaningful than this, or more fulfilling than the shared pleasure of their lovemaking.

 

* * *

 

            “Were you scared of me when we first met?” Cullen asked, and he looked down at where she lay on his chest. He ran his hand through her hair, softly detangling the parts that had gotten matted from her convulsions as she came apart beneath him. He had taken her twice already that night, positively desperate for her now that he had her naked and alone in his bed. He forgot duties, he forgot vows to the Maker when he held her in his arms, when he saw her writhe and cry out beneath him, _because_ of him. He would pray to the Maker for forgiveness tomorrow. At present, he wanted nothing more than to continue to hold her tight to him, sticky with sweat and still tasting her on his lips, still feeling her throbbing around him from her last orgasm.

            She giggled softly, as if exhausted, as if it took all of her effort. “A little,” she admitted. “Although it wasn’t really _you_ , it was that you’re a Templar. I actually…I was less scared of you than others. Your eyes are so warm, I felt – safe, almost, when I was near you.”

            “You were scared but felt safe?” he frowned and chuckled slightly.

            “I – I guess,” she giggled again.

            “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he confessed. “It took me so long to realize it was because I desired you, though.”

            She shifted her head so she could look up at him. “That long?”

            He nodded.

            “I – I think me too,” she smiled, and he returned a crooked grin. “Had you wanted to kiss me for a long time, then, when I kissed you that night?”

            He chuckled again. “Yes, much longer than I should admit.”

            “I’m glad we finally acted on it.”

            “Me too.”

            “Do you – do you think about what…what we might do in the future?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

            “Sometimes,” he sighed. “I keep trying to stay in the present, though. The past holds nothing worth remembering for me, and the future holds too much uncertainty. I’d rather just hold you, and savor the moments we have.”

            “I feel the same,” she breathed. “But I can’t help but wonder. Do you think if we’d met at another time, or if we weren’t – here, at the Circle, if I wasn’t a mage, if you weren’t a Templar…do you think we would have still found each other? Do you think we’d live happily ever after?”

            He considered, and realized he couldn’t see a scenario where he wasn’t immediately taken with her, where he didn’t immediately want to spend every moment with her. “I think that would have happened no matter how we met.”

            She giggled, but didn’t say anything. He almost thought her eyes looked sad, despite her giggle.

            “Can I – can I ask you about your magic?” he held her gaze, amazed at his own daring. His heart sped up a little but he tried to bury his doubt, his trepidation.

            “What about it?” she murmured. She didn’t sound bothered.

            “I – I’m not quite sure,” he thought for a moment. “How did you discover you were a mage?”

            She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest as she thought for a moment. “My little brother, Bron, was a sickly child. He had pains, he got headaches, and he couldn’t play when they came upon him,” she sighed a little. “I would sit with him, and wanted desperately to help him. I would put my hand on his forehead, praying that he would feel better. And suddenly one day – well, he did.”

            “How?” Cullen frowned.

            “My magic, the energy I have, the lightning – it somehow, well, helped ease his pain. I didn’t even know what I’d done,” she shrugged against him. “No one else knew for months until my father saw me help him one day.”

            “What did your father do?”

            “He – he sent for the Templars,” she whispered.

            “I’m sorry,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to make you -”

            “No, it’s fine,” she assured him. “They told me I was going to a special school. And the Templars were nice. Ostwick wasn’t so bad, even for a girl the age of seven who had never been away from home.”

            “So what made you fear Templars so much?” he asked, curious when he recalled her skittish behavior.

            “Bad experiences,” she answered, her voice sounding slightly strained. “They’re not all like you. They don’t all join to protect, some join to…punish, to abuse. To take advantage.”

            “Evelyn, did – did someone hurt you?” he felt his heart race, his insides twist as he thought about it, about what she may have been through.

            “Someone tried,” she confessed softly. “I managed to get away, though. It’s fine, it just made me nervous, after that.”

            He squeezed her more tightly in his arms, pressing more kisses to her forehead and her hair.

            “Cullen,” she murmured after a few moments. “You came from Kinloch, didn’t you?”

            His heart raced and he swallowed hard, but he gave a weak, “yes” to answer her.

            “Were you there when it fell apart?”

            “I – y-yes, I was,” he breathed, his voice trembling and barely audible.

            She raised her gaze to his, her neck craning, her cheek brushing his chest as she peered into his face. “I’m sorry,” she said. She didn’t ask him anything more, as if she knew it must be hard for him to speak about if he was there.

            He gulped and nodded, unable to say thank you aloud.

            “Is that why you came to Ostwick?”

            He nodded again.

            She nestled more closely against him. “This may sound – odd – and not, well not what I should say in this situation. But I’m…I’m glad you came to Ostwick.”

            He managed a small smile and hugged her tight for a moment. “Me too.”

            “I love you, Cullen. More than I think I could ever express with words,” she murmured.

            “I love you, Evelyn,” he replied, and he got a crooked grin on his face. “And I think I have an idea, since words aren’t enough for either of us.”

            He pulled her onto him and she giggled, parting her thighs and bracing herself above his shoulders. She stared down at him, her long silky hair falling on either side of his face like curtains. The look in her lightning eyes was tender, loving.

            It stole his breath, it stole his heart.

            He loved her, and every moment of this was worth the pain of his past, it was worth the uncertainty of the future, and it was worth the risk of each moment they shared together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like having songs for your pairings or stories, my main song for my Evelyn and Cullen is "Draw Your Swords" by Angus and Julia Stone. (It's NSFW for language, please don't blare it in public and then yell at me about it later ;-) ) That's where this chapter's title comes from, in case you're curious.  
> xx,  
> L


	10. Just Hold Me Well

            Half a year passed in bliss.

            Cullen took less frequent night patrols, and she snuck into his rooms the nights that he was free. They spent the hours of darkness wrapped up in one another, exploring and indulging their tender passions until they lay sated and exhausted. She hurried back to her quarters before the dawn, parting with one last kiss that spoke of how much they didn’t want to be separated.

            They kept their trysts to his room, already feeling like they were pushing their luck enough with her sneaking there after curfew. She only had a few close calls over the months as they passed, but each brought it closer and closer to home just how much they were actually risking. Still, every time they looked at each other after he closed the door behind her, they both knew it was worth it.

            “You have night patrol tonight?” she asked him, thoroughly disappointed. “I thought someone else was taking it -”

            Cullen sighed. He glanced around the library, checking the ends of the row they were in. “Knight-Commander Halwell wanted me to take it, he found something suspicious the other day and wants me to look into it.”

            “Suspicious? What’s going on?” she whispered, frowning.

            “I – I can’t tell you, love,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t be right. Plus you don’t need to worry yourself about it.”

            “But it’s your birthday,” she lamented, and he gave her a crooked grin. She had finally managed to get the date out of him, finding it funny that he always made sure to get her something for hers while neglecting to tell her when his was. His excuse had been that Templars didn’t celebrate their birthdays, but she’d been insistent.

            “It’s fine, really,” he assured her. “We can celebrate tomorrow night, I’ll still be twenty-seven then.”

            She giggled lightly and nodded. “All right, I suppose,” she agreed. She finally picked up the tome she had pulled from the shelf and gave him a warm smile and a wink before she turned to leave. She meandered down the row, and she could tell he was watching her go, no doubt enjoying the sway of her hips as she did. She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the end of the shelves and saw him staring after her with a gleam in his eyes. She giggled and pursed her lips as if in a kiss, and then turned to walk away.

            She ran into someone and stumbled back. She raised her eyes after she caught herself and saw that she had run straight into Grayson. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Grayson,” she muttered, and she stepped aside to let him pass. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

            He frowned at her and shrugged. “It’s – it’s all right,” he finally grumbled. But he looked at her and then down the row of books with a scowl on his face.

            She glanced down the row as well and saw Cullen making a hasty departure, so that it wasn’t apparent that he had been watching her so eagerly.

            Grayson’s cheeks flexed and he watched the Knight-Captain’s progress before he turned back to Evelyn. He was still frowning sharply as he looked her over. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but her nerves suddenly spiked and she gave him a weak smile and muttered another apology before she hurried from the library.

            She slowed once she reached the courtyard, but her heart was still racing. She thought back to what she had been doing when she ran into Grayson, and she hoped that he hadn’t seen.

            She wasn’t sure what he would do with the knowledge that she had been blowing a kiss to the Knight-Captain.

            That night at supper, she found out at least part of that answer. She was sitting alone as always, slowly chewing her roll and trying not to think about the lonely night ahead of her now that Cullen wasn’t going to be free. Her melancholy was interrupted when someone took the seat next to her, and she looked up to see Grayson sitting and staring at her intently.

            “Evelyn,” he greeted her stiffly.

            “Hello,” she replied slowly, her heart picking up its speed again. She tried to take a deep breath to steady her fraught nerves, but it was harder than normal to calm herself.

            “Listen, I know – I know we haven’t gotten along these last few years,” he began, and he looked around shiftily to make sure no one was near enough to hear them. “But you know you could come to me if you needed anything, right? I do still care about you.”

            She frowned and stared at him for a long moment. “Th-thank you,” she finally murmured. “But I’m fine.”

            He contemplated her for a moment. “Are you sure? I – listen, if someone was taking advanta -”

            She shook her head rapidly and held up a hand to stop him. “Nothing’s wrong, Grayson, really,” she interrupted. “Why would you think otherwise?”

            “I’ve – I thought I noticed -” he hesitated and looked around again. She followed his gaze and saw that he was looking toward Cullen.

            Her stomach tied into knots. “R-really, Grayson, everything’s fine,” she hurried to assure him.

            He turned his black eyes to her once more and looked her over, slowly considering her. “I suppose if you’re sure,” he acquiesced. “But I’m always available to you.”

            Something about his tone made her heart race faster, uncomfortably dancing against her ribs. He was trying to offer her help, or so he said, but it seemed almost more like he’d been fishing for information.

            He finally gave her a curt nod and stood up to depart, leaving her sitting and staring at her half-eaten dinner with sudden overwhelming apprehension. She shot a furtive glance Cullen’s way and saw him watching Grayson walk away from her, a curious frown on his face. He caught her eye and quirked his brows questioningly, and she shook her head slightly.

            _Later_ , she meant.

            He gave a tiny nod like he understood and looked back down at his own plate. Evelyn pushed hers away and stood, no longer hungry. She hurried from the dining hall, intending to ready herself for bed and spend the time until curfew reading. She had nothing else to look forward to that night.

 

 

 

 

            Cullen had had night patrol for two weeks in a row, now, and Evelyn felt pent up and desperate with need. They managed to steal kisses during the day, often coupled with a hurried caress through their clothing, but it wasn’t enough. Her sleep was interrupted, she continually pulled herself out of the Fade feeling an intense ache in the lower pit of her belly. She wanted to lie in his arms again, she wanted to feel his skin against hers, to feel him move within her while he suffocated her with his intense kiss.

            She was lying in bed, thoroughly frustrated, trying to find sleep that eluded her. Her mind kept conjuring remembrances of their nights together, of the eager way he spent so long exploring her whole body, until she was certain he was more familiar with it than she was.

            She couldn’t stand it any longer.

            It was late, the entire quarters silent. She slipped out of her bed and carefully crept to the door, opening it and peering out into the hallway. The coast was clear, and she tiptoed out and quietly closed the portal behind her. She ran through the halls, checking corners and stopping to listen for footsteps. She finally thought she heard some in the direction of the library, and she carefully snuck that way.

            “Cullen,” she whispered softly when she saw him, and he turned from where he had been peering into the library.

            “Evelyn, what are you -” he frowned and looked up and down the hallway as she approached. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the library, and then as a precaution pulled her to the darkest row, the one they often met in to steal kisses. “What are you doing out?”

            “I’m sorry, I wanted to see you,” she murmured. “Please don’t be angry, I just -”

            He sighed but then a crooked grin came across his face. “You shouldn’t be out, but – I’m glad you are. I’ve missed you.”

            She smiled, happy that he wasn’t too angry with her. “I’ve missed you, too, love.”

            He pulled her into his arms and she eagerly rose on tiptoe to meet his lowering mouth. They kissed with abandon, their mouths slanting against each other as their tongues took up their familiar dance. Her heart was racing, and she felt herself already hot and wet between her legs. His hands wandered over her chest, pinching her nipples through the thin material of her shift. He lifted his head and smiled at her before he pulled his gloves off and set them on the stool beside them.

            “How is it I can’t go two weeks without missing you desperately?” he breathed, taking her cheeks in his hands.

            She giggled softly. “I’ve been going mad without you,” she batted her eyelashes at him, unable to resist tempting him with her next words. “My fingers just aren’t the same as feeling you inside me, Cullen.”

            His mouth tugged up into his usual crooked grin and his eyes sparkled. “Is that so, Evelyn?” He brushed his lips teasingly against hers. “You’ll have to show me sometime, I’d be fascinated to see you try. Maybe I could give you some tips.”

            She pulled his bottom lip gently between her teeth and he groaned softly. “Cullen, I need you – please, darling.”

            He smiled, and where she thought he was going to deny her, he instead reached down to his breeches, pushing his armor’s sash aside so he could begin to free himself. She returned his smile, her heart racing with anticipation. When he had freed himself he gripped her waist and spun her around, sliding her shift up over her hips. She bit her lip and steadied herself with her hands against the shelves in front of her, bending to grant him access to her wet opening.

            He ran a finger along her slit and groaned when he felt how slick she was, and she felt herself throb when he slipped two fingers within her quickly to feel her. “Mmm, Evelyn, I missed you,” he moaned softly, and he slid his hard length into her until he was fully sheathed within her.

            She gasped and bit her lip harder, trying to keep herself quiet. His fingers dug into her hips as he began thrusting, both of them making desperate attempts to keep themselves quiet. The sounds of his hips jerking into her echoed through the deserted library, sounding _primal_ , and exciting her even more than she already was. She was answering his thrusts eagerly, the shelf she had her hands gripping creaking slightly as she pushed against it.

            He groaned her name and picked up the pace when he felt her clench slightly around him, and she pressed her lips together and shut her eyes tightly, feeling pushed to the edge already.

            And then, the thin ice they had been balancing on for over a year and a half shattered, and everything fell apart.

            “I _knew_ it!” a voice cried, and they both gasped and looked to their right to see who was there.

            Grayson was standing at the end of the row, a triumphant, hateful look on his face.

            “Maker’s -” Cullen swore and they hastily pulled apart, both working quickly to cover themselves.

            “G-Grayson, what are you -” Evelyn began, lowering her shift and crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding against her ribcage as if it wanted to burst from her chest.

            “I saw you sneak out, Evelyn,” he explained, still glowering at the two of them. Cullen was putting his gauntlets on, his face white and covered in a thin layer of perspiration.

            “You shouldn’t have followed her,” he said, but his voice shook slightly.

            “Oh, are you worried about me breaking the rules? That’s rich coming from the man fucking one of his charges,” Grayson spat. “I knew, from the way you look at her – tell me, Evelyn, what are you getting out of being the Knight-Captain’s little whore?”

            Evelyn’s blood ran cold, her breath caught in her throat. It was exactly what she hadn’t wanted, exactly how she feared people would see it.

            “Don’t call her that,” Cullen took a step in front of her, his voice dangerous and low.

            “Why not? That’s exactly what she is, spreading her legs for you to use her how you like -”

            “ _Shut. Up._ ” Cullen interrupted, and he straightened himself to his considerable height.

            “I can’t wait until the First Enchanter hears, Evelyn,” Grayson sneered as he continued, ignoring the imminent threat and warning in Cullen’s tone. “She thinks so highly of you, but I wonder what she’ll think when she knows you’re a Templar’s little slut, that you let him fuck you like a bitch in heat -”

            The air suddenly stilled, and Evelyn felt her breath catch in her lungs.

            Grayson clutched at his throat, his eyes wide in horror, and she realized what had happened.

            Cullen had Silenced him.

            “I said don’t call her that,” he stepped forward toward Grayson, and the mage shook like a leaf under his advance. The Silence faded, and Grayson backed away from the approaching Knight-Captain.

            “You’ll be ruined, once everyone knows,” the other man gasped. “I hope the whore was worth it.”

            Before Cullen could stop him, Grayson turned and ran from the library.

            For a moment they both stared after him in silence, and then Cullen turned to face her. They stared wide-eyed at each other, momentarily speechless in their terror.

            “Cullen – he’s going to tell – they’ll think you…” she trailed off as tears began to spill from her eyes.

            He stepped forward, closing the distance between them and pulling her into his arms. “It will be fine,” he tried to reassure her, but his voice trembled and she knew he didn’t believe his words anymore than she did.

            “We’ll be – Maker, what will they do to us?” she cried.

            “I won’t let them hurt you,” he murmured, and tightened his hold on her. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

            They didn’t bother pulling apart as they heard footsteps rushing toward them. There was no point in denying, there was no point in hiding now.

            “See?” they heard a voice cry, and Cullen gently pressed his lips to the top of her head before he stepped away and turned to face the person who stood gaping at them.

            Knight-Commander Halwell was glaring at them, a confused and incredulous look under the righteous anger in his eyes. “Knight-Captain Cullen,” he said slowly, and then he turned to her, “Evelyn. Come with me.”

            Evelyn took a deep breath and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, Cullen walking beside her. He kept pace with her, letting his hand brush against her side as if trying to reassure her, to let her know he was with her. They followed the Knight-Commander in silence, Grayson walking before them with a smug look on his face.

            Halwell led them to the First Enchanter’s study, and Gabrielle was waiting for them in her dressing gown, having obviously been pulled from sleep. She was frowning as she took in the group who marched into the room. Halwell nodded a greeting to her and moved to stand beside her so that he could face the other three.

            “So,” he began, and his eyes moved across the faces of those before him. “I understand from Grayson that he saw you in a – ah, compromising situation.”

            Evelyn’s heart was racing, and she hung her head so that she didn’t have to see the look on Gabrielle’s face.

            “Ser, I can explain,” Cullen began, but Halwell held up a hand.

            “Is it true that you were fraternizing with one of your charges, Knight-Captain?” he demanded.

            “Yes, Ser,” Cullen confessed quietly.

            “For how long?” Halwell asked.

            “Over a year and a half, Ser,” Cullen answered, and Evelyn resisted the urge to reach out to him, to take his hand and seek his comfort. Instead she kept her arms crossed tight against her chest, eyes downcast.

            “Evelyn,” Gabrielle chimed in. “May I speak with you in private?”

            “First Enchanter, I’m not sure -” Halwell tried to interject.

            “Please, Knight-Commander, I’d like to make sure it wasn’t an abu -”

            “I started it,” Evelyn interrupted, her voice firm as she finally raised her gaze. “I initiated everything. There was no abuse of power, First Enchanter. It – it was me. It was my fault.”

            There was a moment of silence as the pair before her took in her words, and then Grayson scoffed. “No doubt to get special favors -”

            “No,” she cut him off and shot him a glare. “It wasn’t like that at all. Please, please don’t punish Cullen for taking advantage – he didn’t.”

            “You’re not going to believe the little slut, are you?” Grayson sneered.

            “Silence, Grayson,” Gabrielle snapped.

            “Knight-Captain, is that how things happened?” Halwell asked, frowning as he regarded his second-in-command.

            Cullen was staring at Evelyn, and she held his gaze, unable to look away. “It – it was mutual, Ser,” he answered and finally looked back to his superior. “A relationship, it wasn’t – it wasn’t trading favors.”

            Halwell sighed and rubbed his temples, and Gabrielle folded her arms as she regarded Evelyn.

            “This can’t go unpunished, I’m sure you understand that,” Halwell finally said, and he looked to the First Enchanter beside him.

            Gabrielle frowned sharply at him. “I expect that there will be fair treatment, despite the fact that he is your second-in-command.”

            “He no longer is,” Halwell declared, and he turned a stern frown to Cullen. “He is relieved from that position. Obviously I cannot trust him to look after his charges without becoming too involved.”

            Evelyn’s heart was racing, hoping that maybe that was all, maybe they would just strip him of his rank. She glanced sideways at Cullen, and her heart ached when she saw the look on his face.

            “And what of Evelyn?” Gabrielle prompted. “She is not an Enchanter, we cannot take away a rank or strip her of titles or privileges -”

            Halwell sighed and regarded Evelyn. “I know how other Commanders would handle this, considering the seriousness of the transgression. I’ve been hearing stories from Kirkwall -”

            “No,” Gabrielle cried out, shocked. “You can’t mean Tranqu -”

            “I said _other_ Commanders, First Enchanter,” he interrupted with a shake of his head. He stood considering Evelyn, whose eyes were wide as she looked back at him, trembling all over.

            Tranquility? Surely they wouldn’t dare.

            “She passed her Harrowing, you can’t – you can’t even consider -” Cullen interrupted, looking incredulous, almost taking a step before her.

            “No, I’m not,” Halwell said. He looked between the pair before him, a scowl coming across his face. “However it is becoming clear to me that I cannot let you remain at the same Circle. I could strip you of the rank of Knight-Captain, but I can already tell that wouldn’t prevent you two from continuing this fraternization.”

            Evelyn almost felt faint, and she saw Cullen glance back at her from where he still stood poised before her, ready to protect. The same fear she felt was reflected in his golden gaze.

            “Ser Cullen, you will be sent from Ostwick to the Circle at Kirkwall. Knight-Commander Meredith has been in need of more Templars and requested we send who we could,” Halwell declared. “You will be stationed at the Gallows, and you are not to ever return to Ostwick. You will depart on the first ship available, and until your departure you will remain in your quarters.”

            Evelyn’s heart broke, until she was certain it had actually split in two. A sob escaped her lips and she sank to the floor, her knees colliding with the stone. Cullen turned and knelt before her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her against him.

            “Please escort him back to his room while we speak with Evelyn,” she heard Halwell direct someone, and she felt hands trying to pull Cullen away from her.

            “No – no -” she sobbed and tried to cling to him.

            She felt him press a hurried kiss to her lips before he was lifted to his feet and marched away by two Templars who had been waiting outside the room. She turned on her knees and watched them escort him away from her, tears pouring down her cheeks as she cried his name desperately.

            She felt a hand on her shoulder and hit it away from her instinctively, not wishing to be touched. She glared up to see First Enchanter Gabrielle staring down at her, and she felt an emotion she’d never felt before.

            _Hatred_.

 

* * *

 

           

            Cullen flinched as the door slammed behind him, ignoring the snide comments he could hear the other Templars making as they walked away.

            His mind was blank, his whole body shaking as he tried to absorb what had happened.

            _How could he have been so stupid?_

            They had let themselves get so comfortable, so complacent, as if they weren’t constantly trying to avoid detection. They had managed for so long, and he had stopped feeling the usual dread and fear of being caught that had restrained them before. His love had blinded him. Their run of good luck had lulled him into a false sense of security.

            _He had been such a fool_.

            He should have known better. He had known better. He had seen the suspicious way Grayson had been acting since that day in the library, and he knew the other man still held Evelyn’s rejection against her. He should have escorted her straight back to the quarters. He shouldn’t have pulled her into the library.

            He shouldn’t have kissed her.

            He shouldn’t have taken her.

            He began to strip out of his armor, feeling devastated and stifled by its weight.

            Kirkwall.

            He had been hearing things about the Circle at Kirkwall, the stories coming out. He wasn’t sure what to believe. The Templars said the place was rife with blood mages, that Knight-Commander Meredith was barely keeping control.

            His stomach tied into knots as he thought about being sent to a Circle with such a reputation. But worse, he thought about being sent away from her.

            The Knight-Commander had mentioned Tranquility, and for a moment Cullen considered tearing out of his room to find her, to make sure that they wouldn’t dare hurt her.

            He didn’t hang his armor on his stand like normal, instead he threw it against the wall and it clattered and echoed loudly through the room. He paced, lost and desperate.

            He was being sent away.

            She was being punished.

            They wouldn’t be together, ever again.

            It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have let her take any blame. He should have lied and said he took advantage, that he coerced her, that he forced her. He should have lied to protect her, even at the cost to himself.

            He ran his hands through his hair as he paced, looking around the room wildly.

            He didn’t know what to do.

            He had lost everything.

            And they couldn’t run – to run would be to lose more, to make her an apostate, to drive him to insanity, both cut off from everything they needed, constantly in danger…

            He couldn’t allow that, he needed to protect her. Even if that meant being separated.

            At least then, she would still be alive.

            What else could they do?

            It was an hour later when he had finally stopped pacing and sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands as his mind tortured him with desperation. The door to his room opened, and he looked up to see Knight-Commander Halwell enter and close it.

            “Ser Cullen,” he greeted him stiffly. “We have arranged for your departure. Your ship leaves this evening from the Ostwick Harbor. You will be in Kirkwall within a fortnight.”

            Cullen couldn’t even nod, couldn’t acknowledge the news at all. He simply stared at the floor, unseeing.

            “I – I expected better from you,” Halwell said quietly, the tone of his voice tearing through Cullen until he felt even worse than he already did. “Was it worth the risk, was it worth losing your position and a place where you were thriving – a home?”

            Cullen slowly raised his head, looking his Commander in the eye. “Yes, she is.”

            Halwell held his gaze, looking sad. “You two aren’t the only ones here who want more than the lives you were dealt by fate or by choice. You knew your vows, when you took your vigil. That was your decision. And Evelyn was dealt her fate by the Maker, but she knew the rules, she knew the costs -”

            “What did you do to her?” Cullen asked, his hands shaking and his heart racing. “Tell me you didn’t – tell me you aren’t going to make her -”

            “We are not monsters, Cullen,” Halwell said. “Confinement, for a time, increased supervision. Loss of privileges. Extra work, duties. But no, we will not make her Tranquil.”

            Cullen closed his eyes and released the breath he had been holding. That, at least, was a relief. He shuddered when he pictured her emotionless, the spark behind her eyes gone…

            “Consider yourselves lucky, Cullen,” the Knight-Commander continued.

            “Lucky?” Cullen gritted out, scowling at his superior.

            “Yes,” there was an odd look in the other man’s eyes. “Lucky that your situation was understood by those who punished you. It could have been worse for both of you if it had happened anywhere else.”

            Cullen stared at him, confused by his words.

            “I’m…disappointed,” Halwell murmured. “I had intended to see you trained to take Command. Now, instead, I will be sending a letter with you making sure your new Knight-Commander is aware of how you conducted and disgraced yourself here.”

            Cullen swallowed hard and nodded. He wasn’t sure he cared about that, not really.

            Losing his rank and title was nowhere near as painful as knowing he was being forced to give her up.

            No one had been set up to guard his door, and he waited a few moments after the Knight-Commander left before he peered out of his room and began to make his way through the corridors. If Evelyn was in confinement, he knew exactly where she’d be.

            He refused to leave without seeing her.

            He silently made his way through the halls and checked around the corner to the room where she was sure to be. Surprisingly, no one was in the hall. He frowned, slightly confused, but decided not to hesitate too long wondering why.

            He hurried forward to the door and tried it, and found that it was unlocked. He opened it and looked in, able to make out a small form curled up in the bed from the light pouring in from the hallway. He slipped inside and closed the door.

            The form shifted as she sat up and looked around. “Who’s -”

            “It’s me,” he whispered.

            “Cul-Cullen,” she sobbed, and he took swift strides until he was kneeling on the bed beside her.

            “I had to see you, I can’t – I can’t leave without -” his voice broke and he held her tight against him, his nose buried in her hair.

            “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,” she cried, her body heaving with her renewed, hiccupping tears.

            “It’s mine too, I knew better,” he sighed. “I was a fool, we shouldn’t have – oh love, I’m so sorry. I’ve made a mess of everything.”

            She shook her head against him but seemed at a loss for words, unable to speak through her sorrow. He pressed his lips firmly to her forehead, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of rain. After a few moments she raised her face, peering up at him through the semi-darkness. Her eyes were swollen from her tears, her clear eyes bloodshot and sparkling. He shook his head, taking in the sight of her devastation, and felt a lump of emotion catch in his throat.

            “I love you,” he breathed, his voice barely audible.

            “I – I love you,” she answered, her voice trembling.

            He lowered his mouth to hers, and his desperation consumed him.

            It was the last time. They were being torn apart, and fate would keep them from a reunion.

            He twisted his mouth against hers, feeling her own hopeless response as tears continued to slide down her cheeks. He pulled her into his lap where he knelt, and she reached down to his breeches and unlaced them without breaking their kiss. She lifted her hips and positioned herself before she lowered herself onto him in one quick motion.

            “Evelyn,” he moaned against her lips, crushing her to him until he was certain he was likely hurting her.

            “Cullen,” she breathed, clinging to his shoulders and pressing fierce, teary kisses to his lips. She began rocking her hips, and he thrust up to meet her, their pace frantic, desperate, saying everything they couldn’t put into words. Tears streamed from her beautiful eyes and he slid his mouth along her cheeks, catching the salty, bitter drops as they fell. They devoured each other’s lips, their tongues locked in eager discourse, trying to convey their crashing, sorrowful thoughts to one another.

            Hopelessness.

            Despair.

            Devastation.

            Emptiness.

            Fear.

            And love.

            Their releases came upon them with the same urgency that led them there, until her moan of pleasure escaped her throat like an agonized funeral wail. He pressed his face to the bend of her neck as he finished with her, clasping her tightly to him as he shuddered in his unbearable ecstasy.

            “I’ll always love you,” she whispered, and the look in her eyes tore his heart into pieces.

            “You’re the only one, Evelyn,” he brushed his lips against hers. “I’ll only ever love you.”

           

           

           

            Cullen stood on the deck of the ship, looking out at the Ostwick harbor. In the distance he could see the Circle, and he stared at it for what would be the last time. The ship was departing in a few moments, and he determined to stand there watching until he couldn’t see the Circle any longer. He felt empty, hollow, full of self-loathing and despair.

            The ship began rocking, sailing away, taking him off away from his love.

            He watched as the Circle shrank, becoming farther and farther from him.

            A storm cloud gathered suddenly over its towers, and lightning rippled across the sky as rain began to pour in a desperate torrent.

            And then the wind caught the sails, and sped him away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I'm so so sorry *runs away*


	11. Nothing Left to Give, Nothing to Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hawke featured in this fic is the same Marian present in EotS and The Sun and The Moon. From here on again expect a lot of time jumps, we're going to move through DA2/Kirkwall canon as succinctly as possible, especially Act 2.  
> Also, I'm curious and hoping that my new spin on Cullen in Kirkwall makes sense within this AU, considering what's happened since Kinloch. I'd love to hear feedback about it.
> 
> Just to mention, the 'bullying/shaming' is strong at the beginning. The angst continues.  
> I loved all of your responses to the last chapter. I torture because I love <3
> 
> xx,  
> L

            _“What if we ran away?” he asked in a desperate moment, sounding hopeless. His eyes pierced her soul, the warm amber depths pleading with her, scared to lose her._

_“If you run away – it would mean his death,” the First Enchanter had whispered urgently to her, gripping her arm before they escorted her to her confinement. “He wouldn’t last without lyrium – the Templars would find and kill you both. It’s better this way. Think of_ him _, Evelyn – at least this way he’s alive.”_

_“We can’t, Cullen,” she cried, burying her face against his neck. He was softening inside her, and she couldn’t bear to lose that feeling, the feeling of being one with him. “We can’t, I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.”_

_He pressed a fevered kiss to her lips._

_He left, looking back at her one last time, saying “I love you. Always,” before he closed the door between them._

_“You two, I thought you were keeping watch -” voices echoed from outside the heavy door._

_“The Knight-Commander said he needed us, he told us to leave our post to help -”_

_“What?”_

_Evelyn frowned, curious why her door had been left unguarded._

 

            Her eyes fluttered open, and immediately she groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over her head. The Fade now replayed their last desperate moments together over and over every night as she slept. She often awoke crying, pulled sobbing hysterically from her slumber.

            The sun had risen but she couldn’t stay in bed, as much as she wanted to just sleep until she died. She had been assigned more duties. She now helped the Tranquil with all of their daily tasks. They hadn’t made her Tranquil, but they were now the only company she kept.

            It was fine with her, really, and didn’t feel like as much of a punishment as it was meant to. The Tranquil didn’t look at her with disgust. They didn’t sneer and call her a Templar’s whore behind her back, or like all the others – to her face. They didn’t ask her if she’d let him fuck her because she was a blood mage, or because he’d caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to. They didn’t ask her if he’d forced himself on her but she’d let it keep happening because she was a slut and enjoyed it. They didn’t ask her how he liked it, or how many places she’d let him fuck her in the Circle, how many dark corners she’d sucked him in.

            The Tranquil didn’t even think to ask any of that, because they didn’t think like that.

            Everyone else did, though, because Grayson had been sure to tell the entire Circle what had happened. He hadn’t spared any detail of how he had found them together, and everyone knew every facet of the intimate moment between them. It had been beautiful, natural, and wonderful to her, the way that they both seemed close as soon as he first pushed deep inside her. It always felt as if that was all it took for them to find their pleasure together, just becoming one, both nearly lost in that first instant. To those that now mocked her with the memory, it meant she was no better than a Mabari bitch who’d let a Ferelden dog lord mount her.

            The Templars who had escorted Cullen from the room had spread it among their fellows, as well, until she couldn’t walk down the corridors without at least one person whispering _“Knight-Captain’s good little whore”_ as she passed. She even had one or two Templars ask her for a toss when no one else was around, offering to help her get out of her confinement for a bit in exchange.

            She didn’t bother telling anyone.

            No one would have cared anyway.

            Weeks passed until the newness of the gossip faded and she was mostly ignored, only taunted if there was nothing better to do. She moved through the halls as if no one else existed, not caring what they said, not caring what they thought of her.

            She was broken. She would never feel whole again.

            Nothing they said could compare to that pain, nothing any of them did could cause her the same anguish that not having him near caused.

            Eventually they got bored of shaming her, jeering at her as she passed, mostly because she never reacted. None of them ever managed to elicit a response from her, and it soon lost its appeal for her tormentors.

            She spent her days with the Tranquil and she spent her nights lying awake crying. Every morning her eyes were puffy, red and tight. She stopped eating as much, and she regained the thin, pallid look she had had years before when she met him.

            She didn’t care.

            Her life returned to monotony, and solitude. She isolated herself, except for her interactions with the Tranquil. They were soothing to her, friendly and even. They helped time pass more quickly. Some days she considered asking them to make her Tranquil, so that she didn’t have to feel his loss anymore.

            First Enchanter Gabrielle tried to speak with her sometimes, and beyond answering what she deemed absolutely necessary, she would simply stare at the woman for a moment before she walked away.

            She knew it wasn’t the older woman’s fault, but she couldn’t feel the same way about her mentor as she once had. Those days were gone.

            Evelyn was gone.

            She no longer felt like herself. She felt like she had died that day, and her body was simply taking too long to come to terms with the fact that her heart had already stopped beating.

  

* * *

 

            “Hey, _mage-fucker_ ,” a voice hissed near him. Cullen gritted his teeth and turned to glare at the recruit who was snickering at him. “Did you Silence her when she was too loud, so that no one could hear you fuc -”

            “Get back to work,” he snapped, and marched away.

            The recruit ignored him, but then again they always did. As soon as he’d arrived months ago, word had quickly spread of his disgrace from Ostwick, and now that he wasn’t Knight-Captain, no one felt compelled to listen to him. He had all of the worst duties, and he was always assigned to work with another Templar when he was on rounds, when he patrolled, especially at night. He was treated as if he couldn’t be alone with his charges, as if he couldn’t control himself.

            He took duty in the courtyard as frequently as he could, watching the mages who still had privileges to move out and about beyond the Gallows. While in the courtyard, Ser Thrask kept an eye on him, and it was during those times that Cullen found he didn’t mind the Gallows so much. The older man was honorable, and didn’t frown or make snide remarks to Cullen every chance he got. Instead he discussed duties, and Kirkwall. It was a refreshing change.

            It was certainly a refreshing change from the Knight-Commander and the Knight-Captain.

            Meredith and Alrik.

            Meredith was strict, even stricter than Greagoir had been at Kinloch. At times there seemed to be merit to her concerns, considering the amount of dissent and open rebellion in some of the mages within the Gallows. But Cullen found himself often questioning the Knight-Commander’s orders, her methods seeming too harsh, bordering on brutal. He wasn’t in a position to voice his concerns, though. He was treated as the lowest ranking Templar, just above the recruits; he wasn’t given a chance to protest anything that was happening.

            Knight-Commander Meredith had openly scorned him when he arrived, had openly declared her distrust of him. He had been placed on a probationary period that didn’t seem likely to ever end. She had questioned him about Ostwick, about Evelyn, asking things he had never wanted to have to speak about or admit to anyone else. She had asked him how he could have taken up with a mage after the events of Kinloch. Hadn’t he realized after that how dangerous mages were, how little he could trust one after that? How manipulative and cunning they were, intent only on power and doing what they could to acquire it?

            He thought of Evelyn, of her sweetness, her naïveté, her innocence and pure goodness. 

            He couldn’t believe Meredith, he couldn’t see all mages the way she did.

            Not when he still loved one so dearly, not when he thought about her every moment he was awake, and dreamt of her every night.

            Not when he knew she was nothing like how Meredith saw mages, that she could never be that way. She had proven that to him so many times, and he couldn’t blindly follow his Knight-Commander’s narrow vision of mages.

            Halwell’s letter to Meredith had recommended that she put Cullen to work, that she let him remain in the Order and help the Circle at Kirkwall. And so she let him stay, though she didn’t trust him or utilize him to his full potential.

            Knight-Captain Alrik was another matter. Where Meredith was suspicious and paranoid, quick to jump to conclusions about mages, Alrik was cruel, sadistic and twisted, enjoying torment and punishment far more than was decent. Cullen’s skin crawled when he saw the man, and he sometimes tried to shadow him on patrols to make certain he wasn’t doing anything untoward. Still, he felt helpless, unable to adequately bring the man’s attitude to anyone’s attention. Alrik was good at making sure he wasn’t noticed or caught, too.

            The only person he felt comfortable expressing these concerns to was Thrask, but even then he didn’t feel like anything would be done about it.

            He finally had an evening off, after months of constant duties, and he was heading to his quarters when Ser Thrask stopped him in the halls. “Ser Cullen, I was wondering if you would have a drink with me. You’ve been at Kirkwall for over half a year now, and I’ve never seen you take any breaks.”

            Cullen frowned and looked away from the man. He wanted to say that he buried himself in duties as much as he could so that he was distracted from the constant pain and ache in his heart, the persistent longing for _her_. Instead he merely shrugged.

            “Come with me to the Hanged Man,” the older Templar encouraged him, and he found himself unable to make excuses and nodded his assent. He went to the Templar quarters first, where he paced for a moment, frustrated that he hadn’t been able to think of a way to say no.

            He didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t want to have to make conversation.

            He flipped open the book of prayers on the cabinet beside his bunk until it fell open at a passage that had been read so often the binding fell to it naturally. He picked up the folded parchment that was tucked inside and unfurled it, smiling softly as he looked at it.

            It was the only thing he had managed to smuggle out, because they hadn’t given any thought to him taking a prayer book with him.

            He looked over the lines of the sketch, remembering the look of her fingers covered in charcoal, the tiny bit she had gotten smudged on the tip of her nose. He studied the small signature in the corner, the elegant curves of her name, the way she had addressed it, _‘To My Darling.’_

            She had given it to him as thanks for the new charcoals he had given her for her birthday, that second year… At the time the subject had already been laden with memories, of the prayers they had shared together over the span of almost two years. Now, though, as he looked at the sketch she had done of the Chantry’s statue of Andraste, his mind wandered to an even fonder memory. He remembered the first night he had been inside her, the first night he had felt her throbbing around him as she softly cried his name. He remembered the soft way her voice sounded as she said _‘I love you.’_

            The sound and the feeling still haunted his dreams, and every one of his waking moments.

            He shook his head and folded the parchment back up, tucking it carefully back into his prayer book. He placed it carefully within the cabinet and locked the door before he dragged his feet and made his way to meet Ser Thrask.

 

            “You look new in town,” a voice said beside him, and he turned to look at who the soft voice belonged to.

            A woman with golden hair and similarly tinted skin stood beside him, frowning at him as her hazel eyes took in his Templar armor.

            “Aren’t there enough of you here, did they really need to bring in new ones?” she continued almost grumpily as she waved for the barkeep.

            “I’m sorry, should I know who -”

            “Hawke,” she replied.

            He frowned. The name sounded familiar for several reasons.

            “Do you by any chance have a brother?” he asked.

            She rolled her eyes as she paid for her ale. “Depends on whether or not he’s willing to accept it, most days,” she quipped. “But you’re probably thinking of Carver, yes. He’s one of _you_.”

            Cullen raised his eyebrows, remembering his few interactions with her brother. “Promising fellow,” he mused.

            She scoffed. “Don’t let him hear you say that, you’ll never hear the end of it,” she shook her head and took a long gulp from her tankard. She turned a puzzled frown to his face as she looked him over again. “Where did you come from? You almost sound Ferelden.”

            “I am, but I was – I was recently in Ostwick,” he answered softly.

            “Ostwick, really? Whatever brought you here?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

            “Bad luck,” he muttered. He’d had a few pints with Ser Thrask, and was unable to keep himself from being honest.

            “Oooh, that sounds interesting,” Hawke teased. “I feel like there’s a story there.”

            He shook his head and took a deeper gulp from his tankard.

            “You’re no fun,” she pouted mockingly when he didn’t elaborate. “But does that mean you aren’t happy here? I thought the Gallows would be _paradise_ for a Templar, think of all the mages under your control -”

            “No,” he interrupted. He glared at her and saw a surprised look on her face. “Not every Templar is like that.”

            She regarded him carefully for a moment before she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Interesting. I never thought I’d see the day -”

            “Hawke, come on, Varric wants to start the game,” a tanned, dark-haired woman said as she threw an arm around the golden woman’s shoulders. “Oooh, though, who’s your friend? Hello, handsome,” she purred as she looked Cullen over.

            “Oh leave him be, Isabela, he’s probably sworn to the Maker or something,” Hawke chided playfully as she wrapped her arm around the woman’s waist. “Let’s go, I’m ready to win back some of my money from you.”

            And with that the two gave Cullen smirks, Isabela giving him a wink, and then they departed.

            “I see you met Hawke,” Thrask said as he returned to his side.

            “You know her?”

            “Yes, we’ve had some – ah, dealings,” Thrask answered, and he fell silent and stared into his tankard of ale. “Resident do-gooder. _Very_ fond of mages, always speaks out for their rights, insists they be treated like people.”

            There was something about the way Thrask said it that made Cullen wonder, and he thought back on their conversation, and on her brother Carver. Something seemed odd, almost like…

            But his musings were interrupted by his fellow Templar clearing his throat.

            “So, do you miss Ostwick?” the older man began.

            Cullen took a deep breath and stared down into his ale.

            Thrask suddenly clucked his tongue and sighed. “Ah, I see…you’re still thinking about _her_.”

            Cullen gave a sidelong glance to the man beside him. The older Templar had never brought it up before, but Cullen noticed he didn’t sound disapproving or like he was trying to shame him.

            “So, you really did love her, didn’t you?”

            Cullen took a long swig of his ale and sighed. “ _Do_ , not did,” he corrected bluntly. The alcohol had made him too honest, and he regretted his words. He wished he could leave; he didn’t want to be scrutinized at present. Mostly because he knew he would collapse under any questioning at the moment.

            “I see,” Thrask nodded his head. “Well, might I ask – does that mean you’re not so, ah, blinded to the cause of the mages?”

            Thrask was looking at him earnestly, and Cullen furrowed his brows. If he wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed like the man had worked his way up to the real reason he had invited Cullen out alone.

 

 

 

            “Did you know about this, Cullen?”

            The yell echoed across the courtyard and Cullen turned to see Hawke marching across it toward him. She was brandishing papers at him, looking livid. He hadn’t seen her in a while, and he certainly didn’t know why she might be so furious and shouting at him.

            “Did. You. Know.” She ground out as she stopped before him, breathing heavily.

            He frowned and took the proffered sheets of parchment before flipping through them.

            His blood ran cold.

            “The – the Tranquil Solution?” he read, staring down at the papers, dumbfounded. “I’ve never seen these before, Hawke.”

            She glared at him, considering him carefully. She suddenly seemed like she believed him and leaned back slightly, folding her arms. She still looked at him menacingly, still ready to pounce if she thought he had something to do with her anger.

            He shuffled the pages and scanned them quickly, taking in more details. “Hawke, where did you get these? They’re signed by Ser Alrik -”

            “I found them,” she said shortly.

            He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her, but he suddenly decided he didn’t want to press the matter. _Plausible deniability_.

            Ser Alrik had been found the day before in the passageways leading out of the Gallows.

            He had been killed in combat. He had been set on fire.

            “Hawke, I – I don’t know -”

            “So you really hadn’t heard about this?” She demanded.

            Cullen shook his head. “Have you shown them to anyone else?”

            “The Grand Cleric, but she said she denied the request, that she refused to entertain the idea,” her lip curled bitterly, like she didn’t believe the woman’s words. “I thought maybe I’d ask you.”

            “Well I can’t be much help. They don’t tell me much around here,” Cullen sighed.

            “Oh? And why is that?” she asked, giving him a curious once over.

            “I’m not exactly an exemplary Templar,” Cullen murmured, and he handed the pages back to her. “Burn them. I don’t want anyone else to ever see that madman’s ideas.”

            “So you don’t think mages should be made Tranquil?” she queried as she took the pages back from him. She sounded surprised.

            “Never as punishment,” he answered. “Never without cause, and certainly never a-all of them.”

            He thought of Evelyn, of the momentary fear that Halwell was sentencing her to the Rite of Tranquility for their love. He remembered the way his heart had stopped beating, the look of fear on her face. He pictured her emotionless and cold, her eyes no longer sparking with life…

            He cleared his throat.

            “Are you all right?” Hawke was watching him suspiciously.

            “I’m fine,” he answered firmly.

 

 

           

            Kirkwall was in chaos.

            The Arishok was leading an assault on the city, he and the Qunari were tearing through the streets and slaughtering those who resisted, dragging others to the Keep.

            Cullen raced through the streets, through the alleys, leading a small contingent of Templars. He only thought of protecting, he only thought of helping.

            He thoroughly expected to die, considering the mayhem that was flooding the streets.

            He wondered if it would feel like a relief if he did.

            In the end, he was alive. And Hawke had saved the day.

            He watched as Kirkwall, so paranoid, so full of strife and suspicion of mages, the home of the intimidating Gallows – welcomed and celebrated the apostate Hawke with open arms as the Champion of Kirkwall.

            He shook his head bitterly and walked away from the sight, musing over the hypocrisy and fickleness of people.

 

* * *

 

            “Oh, Clemence, here, let me help you,” Evelyn hurried forward to help the Tranquil as the scrolls he was holding began to fall out of his arms.

            “Thank you, Evelyn,” he replied in his monotone voice. “I apparently underestimated my arm span. I am sorry.”

            “There’s no need to apologize, Clemence,” she chuckled softly, and she picked up the few scrolls that had finally fallen to the floor. “It happens to the best of us.”

            “I suppose,” he responded blandly.

            “Are these for the First Enchanter?” she asked.

            “Yes, she wanted them as soon as possible,” Clemence turned slowly and began to walk toward Gabrielle’s study.

            Evelyn clutched the scrolls she held more tightly and walked beside him. “Are they about the elfroot poultices you were researching?”

            “No, lyrium potions,” the Tranquil answered.

            “I see,” she nodded. “Changes, or just -”

            “Just research,” he replied slowly.

            She gave a quirk of a smile and followed him the rest of the way. They walked side by side in comfortable silence, Evelyn reveling in the fact that she didn’t have to make conversation, that she didn’t have to pretend to be cheerful as they made their way to the study.

            They reached the door and she knocked briskly and then opened it.

            Gabrielle and Halwell looked up from where they sat side by side on one side of the desk, as if they were in a deep discussion, and took in the sight of Clemence and Evelyn standing there.

            “Ah, are these the scrolls I asked for?” the First Enchanter asked after a moment.

            “Yes, First Enchanter,” Clemence answered easily. “I have acquired all of the information you asked for. Evelyn was kind enough to help me carry them. There was quite a lot.”

            Evelyn shook her head with a soft smile at the Tranquil’s words and merely set the scrolls on the desk, intending to turn and leave right away.

            “I suppose we can continue our conversation on Kirkwall later,” Halwell said suddenly.

            Evelyn froze, not daring to turn around to face the man as he stood, the chair he had been in creaking as his weight left it.

            “Yes, we can,” Gabrielle answered and the Knight-Commander brushed by Evelyn, giving her a slight frown as he passed.

            Evelyn couldn’t move, she couldn’t bring herself to put her feet one after another. _What was happening in Kirkwall?_

            “Dear, is there something I can do for you?” Gabrielle asked suddenly.

            Evelyn pressed her lips tightly together, mentally warring with herself. She still hadn’t spoken with the First Enchanter, and she wasn’t certain if she was willing to start now. But Kirkwall…She had to know. She turned and faced the other woman. “Is – did something happen in -”

            Gabrielle regarded her for a moment and then gave her a sad, understanding smile. “There was a Qunari attack. They killed the viscount, and many others. The Templars helped ward off the attack. They sent for some temporary reinforcements to help rebuild the city for a while.”

            “I see,” Evelyn said, her voice barely a whisper.

            “Yes, their new Knight-Captain seemed to think some support would be welcome, for a time,” the First Enchanter sighed. “He said he had heard from a _reliable source_ that the Templars at Ostwick would be able to assist.”

            Evelyn’s heart was racing and she tried to keep her face neutral, barely nodding as if in agreement with Gabrielle’s statement.

            “Knight-Commander Halwell and I were just trying to decide who we could spare,” the other woman continued. “I’m happy they didn’t ask for any assistance from the mages we have here, though – I wouldn’t let any of my charges near the Gallows. The stories coming out of there…”

            Evelyn swallowed hard and nodded absently. The small, desperate glimmer of hope she had had for a brief moment was extinguished. “Do you need anything else, First Enchanter?” she asked finally, and hated how her voice trembled.

            It had been a year, now, and that was the first news she had heard out of Kirkwall. From the way Gabrielle had phrased it, though, it seemed like the reliable source was Cullen, which meant that he had survived the chaos.

            At least he was still alive, she thought, and buried the pain of missing him deeper inside herself.


	12. The Hawk and The Lion

            “I already told you _no_ ,” he gritted out, walking briskly down the hall and glancing over his shoulder. He rounded the corner and turned to face his companion. “There’s already too much scrutiny on me, Thrask. You know as well as I do that my getting involved will just make things worse.”

            “Cullen, please, you have to do what’s right -” the other Templar began.

            “And I am by not turning you in,” Cullen interjected. “Listen, Thrask – I would help if I could. But Meredith has never trusted me. She’s never really wanted me here. It’s been over three years and I’m still watched constantly by my peers.”

            “I’ve been trying to tell them it’s no longer needed -”

            “Yes, and Meredith then goes behind your back and tells them to continue,” Cullen sighed and rubbed his neck.

            “You’d think she’d let her Knight-Captain have a bit more control over his subordinates,” Thrask crossed his arms and scowled. “This is part of why I never wanted the position. It should have gone to you.”

            Cullen let out a humorless laugh. “That would have been the day.” He looked around, thinking hard. “Listen, I support the cause, you know I do – but it’s best if I step back and don’t help, if I don’t get involved. Maybe then you won’t get caught.”

            Thrask stared at him for a moment and then sighed. “You’re right, I suppose,” he conceded. He was silent for a moment, looking down the empty hall. “Have you spoken with Hawke lately?”

            “Only in passing,” Cullen frowned. “Why?”

            “Just curious. You two seem to get along, I thought maybe -”

            Cullen shook his head vigorously. “No, never.”

            Thrask regarded him carefully. “Still thinking about Evelyn?”

            Cullen sighed and nodded solemnly. Thrask clapped him on the shoulder. “You never know where things might lead, Cullen.”

            He wanted to believe the older man, but he couldn’t.

            It had been over three years, now, and while the pain had lessened to just a constant dull ache, any hope he’d ever had was now gone. The farther he got from their time together, the more of a fairy tale he began to realize his hope of seeing her again was. He was beginning to resign himself to a life of memories and longing.

            He sighed at his melancholic thoughts. “Listen, Thrask, I’ll – I’ll keep an eye out, see what I can do or observe without drawing attention,” he offered. Thrask smiled at him.

            “Good man, Cullen,” he nodded and turned to walk away.

 

 

            “You look dour as always,” a soft voice said beside him.

            Cullen looked down to see Hawke looking him over with a skeptical gaze. “Just what my day needed,” he deadpanned, and she smirked. “You on the other hand look happy. It’s unbecoming for the Gallows.”

            “You’re right I should be scowling just as terribly as you are,” she quipped, but she kept smiling.

            “And why aren’t you? Normally this place makes you look like you’re ready to light everything on fire,” he mused.

            “Oh, you know, just…nice weather,” she replied flippantly as she looked around where they stood. But he followed her gaze and saw what was making her smile. The tall elf with the odd silver markings and white hair was standing speaking with Varric not far from them. He noticed a soft look come into her eyes as she looked at the elf, and he shook his head in slight amusement. It was obvious what was making her smile so much, especially when he saw the elf turn and catch her eye, returning the same soft, understanding look.

            “Maker’s breath. Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall – in love,” he teased. “Now I really have seen everything.”

            She shot him a playful glare. “You almost sound jealous.”

            “Hardly,” he rolled his eyes.

            “Oh that’s right, am I reminding you too much of Ostwick?” she raised an eyebrow at him, and he could tell under the sarcasm there was actually a bit of concern. He regretted the night they had all had drinks at the Hanged Man, when Thrask had dragged him out for a break again. She had finally managed to pry and he had told her about why he’d had to leave Ostwick.

            “Did you need something?” he sighed, trying to change the subject.

            She smirked at him. “Oooh, sorry, didn’t mean to strike a nerve, I was just teasing,” she apologized. “But now that you mention it…”

            There was a pause and he could tell she was mulling something over.

            “I was wondering if maybe you could help me,” she finally said and looked up at him. Her eyes were serious, no longer holding the humorous gleam they normally did.

            “With what?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

            “Do you know anything about a meeting in Hightown this evening? I was – was asked to look into -”

            “Who asked you?” he interrupted, and his heart sped up a bit.

            “Orsino,” she answered slowly, a curious frown on her face as she took in his reaction. “So you do know about it.”

            Cullen cleared his throat and looked around. “I can’t help you, and I can’t go.”

            “Why not? I may need another voice of reason.”

            He shook his head, fervently denying her request. “No, Hawke, I can’t. I would only draw attention, but – you shouldn’t go either, I don’t think -”

            “No, I have to,” she still looked puzzled at him. “I have to help the First Enchanter, he’s worried – things have already gotten bad enough without some secret meeting happening outside of the Gallows. But if you know and aren’t planning on going, why haven’t you told? I thought you followed all of the rules, now.”

            Cullen clenched his jaw and looked away from her.

            “Oh, I see,” she murmured. “Trying to stay neutral, despite how much you know you want to help the mag -”

            “Shhh, Hawke,” he hissed. “I’m always being watched. Now get out of here before you get us both into a mess you can’t talk your way out of.”

            She pursed her lips at him and thought for a moment before she finally sighed and turned to walk away. He watched as she moved to stand beside the elf, and she subtly brushed her knuckles against his before they continued on their way.

            The sight tugged at his heartstrings, making him remember the way he had brushed his hand against Evelyn as they had been marched down the hallway. He had been trying to reassure her, despite how he was also trembling like a leaf, terrified about what punishments they were about to be dealt.

            He gritted his teeth and looked with increased bitterness around the courtyard of the Gallows.

            His punishment.

 

            “Cullen – they have Carver -” Hawke was running through the courtyard, three of her companions following closely behind her. “I – I need your help.”

            She bent over, her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

            “Carver? Who has Carver? Where -” he began, looking around at the four before him in confusion.

            “The Wounded Coast – please, come with me,” she pleaded.

            “I -” he looked around, debating.

            “Please, it’s about what we spoke about yesterday, the -”

            He hushed her again and made up his mind. “Lead the way. Quickly.”

            They made the hurried journey to the Wounded Coast, hardly talking as they tried to cover the distance as fast as they could. He wondered a little that no one had tried to stop him leaving, that no one was trailing after them. He wondered if Thrask had again tried to issue orders that Cullen was to be treated like the other Templars.

            Hawke filled him in before they reached the Coast, and his heart sped up as she told him what she had discovered the previous night. He knew who they would find once they reached their destination, he knew what was going on. He couldn’t believe Thrask would go so far.

            They reached the cove, and he saw Thrask frown sharply when he saw that Cullen had accompanied Hawke. He hung back, trying not to get involved, just intending to act as support for Hawke as she tried to get her brother back. But Grace, one of the mages who tended to be the most vocal, most difficult, was looking at Thrask. They were arguing, she seemed to get ready to strike –

            Cullen reacted instinctively, Silencing the entire area, and he watched as she stumbled back, unable to carry out her attack. Hawke glowered at him as she readied her staff; he knew she had been temporarily Silenced too. But his actions gave Thrask the chance he needed to act as some of the others began to attack, and soon the mages who had attacked were subdued. It was over more quickly than Cullen had expected. Carver was freed. Thrask was alive.

            They all stood staring at the mess, taking in the pure desperation of the mages, surprised at what had just happened.

            “Thrask, how could you?” Hawke demanded, and the older Templar hung his head.

            “I didn’t think she would try to kill him – I only meant to try to persuade you -”

            “You know I’m on your side, but it’s kind of a precarious situation for me, wouldn’t you agree?” Hawke snapped. She was standing beside Carver, looking him over and fussing like a mother hen. Her younger brother seemed to chafe under her attention.

            “I’m sorry, Hawke, you’re right,” Thrask admitted. “Please forgive me, I -”

            “Maybe,” she glared at him. “We’ll see.”

            Thrask approached Cullen, and for a moment there was silence between them. “Thank you, you saved my life.”

            “Make better use of it,” Cullen snapped despite himself. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, thoroughly frustrated. “Was this what you intended, Thrask? We need to figure out how – this needs to be contained, it needs to be -”

            Thrask looked at the mages who had surrendered, the ones who had backed away when Grace insisted that they kill Thrask and the two Hawkes. He considered for a moment. “Mercy, for silence,” he said to them. They all nodded.

            One, Alain, stepped forward. “Ser Thrask, we won’t say a word, just please – keep the Knight-Commander from harming us. I don’t want to be made Tranquil, please -”

            “We’ll make sure that won’t happen,” Thrask assured him. He looked to Cullen, who nodded his agreement.

            “We just need to get our stories straight.”

 

 

 

 

            A week passed, and though they had managed to convince the Knight-Commander that Grace had been behind everything and that they had been pursuing her, it was a week fraught with suspicion and tension. The fate of the mages who had accompanied Grace didn’t help matters within the Gallows. Even though they had surrendered, Meredith insisted they be locked up, not allowed any contact, unable to interact with the world beyond a small cell for the time being.

            At least one of them turned to a demon in desperation, and the Templars were forced to subdue the abomination that resulted.

            A day later, another mage attempted blood magic to escape. They were killed in retaliation.

            For each transgression, Meredith got worse, more paranoid, and she soon confined all of the mages to their quarters.

            For each restriction, each punishment, each crackdown, another mage turned to desperation.

            For each mage that did, Meredith countered with more intensity.

            It was an endless, desperate, vicious cycle.

            Cullen hadn’t slept in days as they tried to contain the situation. But he also found himself torn between the terror it invoked of Kinloch’s chaos, and a desperate desire to protect the innocent mages caught up in Meredith’s paranoia. He and Thrask were trying to mitigate the situation, but things escalated too quickly, events happening before they could get a handle on them.

            Meredith began to accuse Orsino of harboring blood mages, of secretly encouraging them to practice blood magic and call on demons.

            They both marched from the Gallows, chasing and arguing with one another as they made their way to the Chantry.

            Thrask and Cullen trailed behind them, trying to keep up and wanting to keep the situation under control.

            The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander ran into Hawke in Lowtown, and Orsino appealed to her, but one of her companions stepped forward instead.

            Thrask and Cullen finally reached the scene, intending to intercede, unable to hear what was being said.

            And then the sky shattered and they stumbled as the air was rent with the roar of an explosion.

            Cullen spun and looked up to see what had happened, staring wide-eyed in shock at the sight of the Chantry tower ripping open in fragments of stone and fire.

            “Maker have mercy,” Meredith whispered in horror.

            Hawke’s companion stared up at the sky. “There can be no peace.”

            Cullen was still in shock, trying to comprehend what had happened, until he heard Meredith declare the Rite of Annulment.

            “The Circle didn’t even do this!” Orsino cried, and Thrask and Cullen exchanged a look.

            Cullen knew they were of the same mind.

            The Knight-Commander began to give orders, Orsino appealed to Hawke again. Cullen could see her mind working quickly, saw the glares she was shooting to her companion, the one responsible for it all. He saw her flex her hands, and he knew who she would support and how she would act.

            Kirkwall descended into chaos once more.

            Meredith turned to Thrask and Cullen, and they both drew their swords. She rattled off orders to them and then turned, racing off to reach the Gallows, expecting the pair to follow her.

            Cullen wasn’t sure how long it took her before she realized they weren’t behind her.

            “Hawke,” Thrask said. “We are with you.”

            Beside him Cullen nodded. “We need to protect the city, we need to prevent innocents from being killed – quickly.”

            Hawke stared at both of them for a moment. “Thank you,” she said softly, and they all hurried through Kirkwall to try to put a stop to Meredith’s madness.

 

 

 

            Orsino went mad, and turned to desperation like so many before him. They struck him down, Cullen fighting the terror he felt at the blood magic, at the abomination created. He had to protect.

            Meredith was insane, corrupted by red lyrium, paranoid and delusional.

            Cullen didn’t see how they would make it through the day as they stood in the courtyard, facing down his Knight-Commander.

            Well, _former_ Knight-Commander.

            He moved through the battle, fighting people he had stood beside at other times over the last few years. He pushed himself past the point of exhaustion, adrenaline rushing through him until he could hear nothing but the sound of his blood pumping through his veins.

            Hawke was distracted, she didn’t see Meredith run up behind her until it was too late.

            Hawke wasn’t wearing a helmet, she was a mage, she wasn’t built for a hit like the one the Knight-Commander was raising her fist to deliver.

            Cullen charged forward, pushing aside the Champion but placing himself under Meredith’s gauntleted fist. He was so focused on battle he hardly noticed the pain, only noticing a sharpness as he felt something hot and wet covering his mouth and chin.

            He roared.

            He lifted his weapon and deflected her large lyrium-inlaid sword.

            The elf, Fenris, ran forward and also placed himself and his large sword before Hawke, who was retreating to a safe distance.

            Nearby, Thrask was fighting off a _statue_ , that had somehow been called to life by the red lyrium.

            Cullen kept pushing himself, striking again and again, deflecting blows and dodging. He paid little attention to the burning in his lungs or the intense throb of pain that had enveloped his mouth.

            All he knew was that they had to succeed.

            And they did.

            After the battle, they all stood staring at the red lyrium statue that had once been Meredith, thoroughly in shock.

            “Cullen, let me see your lip,” Hawke stepped forward but he brushed her off.

            “Hawke, you need to go – you need to get out of here,” he said, still avoiding her critical stare. “Who knows what the Chantry will do -”

            “At least let me heal your lip, you ass,” she implored him, but he shook his head again.

            “It’s not important. Go, now,” he gently shoved her shoulder.

            “He’s right, Marian, we need to go,” Fenris said, and he stepped forward to Cullen, his hand outstretched. A look of understanding passed between them; he was saying thank you for pushing Hawke out of the way.

            Cullen gave him a solemn nod and took his hand briefly before they released one another. Fenris turned and took Hawke by the hand. She looked over Thrask and Cullen.

            “Thank you,” she said again, and she and her companions fled the courtyard.

            Thrask took in the destruction and turned to look at Cullen. “Well, Knight-Commander, let’s get to work.”

            Cullen frowned. “Shouldn’t that be your title?”

            “I was never much for command, but I think, maybe, it might just suit you.”

 

 

 

            Time passed so quickly in the devastation that he hardly noticed how long it had been. They spent all day everyday working so hard to try to put Kirkwall back together, and he collapsed every night in his bed, immediately falling asleep for a few hours before he rose with the sun to continue his work.

            He barely had time to do anything but lead, and try to keep order.

            Still some nights as he fell asleep, he considered leaving.

            He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of the Order anymore, not after everything that had happened. Everything that had happened with Meredith, with Orsino, in the Gallows, and before, in Ostwick…

            Suddenly he wasn’t certain that this was the correct path for him.

            As time progressed, the idea of leaving became more pronounced, more intense. He began to think about how much it would cost to take a ship to Ostwick, to leave Kirkwall, to try to find her.

            Occasionally between giving orders during the day he stopped and thought about what would happen if he sought her out, about whether or not she would still be there, possibly waiting for him.

            But he looked around the ruins of Kirkwall, he saw the scared faces of the citizens and he knew he couldn’t leave. He had a duty to help the people of the city. After the way he had helped defeat Meredith, the Templars who were left respected him. They were following his orders, all working to help right the wrongs of what had happened.

            Within a few months, though, things changed.

            “A Seeker is here to see you, Ser,” the Templar told him, and he frowned.

            “Show them in,” he ordered, sitting back in his chair feeling trepidation wash over him. A visit from a Seeker was likely not a good thing.

            “Knight-Commander Cullen?” the Seeker greeted when she entered, and he took a moment to take in her rigid, almost harsh demeanor.

            “Yes,” he greeted her, standing and holding his hand out.

            “I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast,” she told him as she clasped his hand. “I understand you were here when the Chantry was destroyed, and that you fought beside the Champion?”

            He gestured to the chair across from his desk, impressed that the woman wasted no time with pleasantries. They both took their seats again as he gave her an affirmative answer.

            “I have some questions, if you don’t mind.”

            “Of course,” he agreed readily, and he sat back and took a steadying breath.

            At the end of it, he was still confused by the Seeker’s attitude, by her motivation for being there. She had asked him all manner of questions, about what had happened, about conditions in the Gallows, about how he had come to Kirkwall, how he had ended up Knight-Commander. He frowned as he answered, trying to determine her purpose.

            “Thank you, Commander, that is enough for today,” she said at the end of two hours. “I will be back tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

            He nodded, bemused.

            She came back the next day and continued to ask questions, but halfway through the conversation they were interrupted by a Templar with an urgent missive. Cullen unrolled it with an apology and quickly scanned it, his eyes widening as he read it. He handed it over to the Seeker, and she took it with a frown.

            “We’ve been expecting this,” she sighed heavily.

            The Circles had rebelled.

            There had already been incidents at some of the other Circles, reports coming in from all over Thedas. But now they had voted for independence. They had declared themselves free of the Chantry and the Templars.

            And several of the Circles were already in chaos, with no reports coming from them, the assumption being made that there were potentially few survivors.

            Including Ostwick.

            Cullen sat staring unseeing at the desk before him, trying not to think about what could be happening, what danger she could be facing. He clenched his fists, trying to hide the shaking of his hands.

            He didn’t think about what a rebellion meant for him as a Templar. In fact, he wasn’t certain he disagreed entirely with the notion. The response across Thedas to what had happened in Kirkwall had been harsh. Reform was needed, though rebellion wasn’t the way.

            But he didn’t think about that.

            “Commander, did you hear me?” Cassandra interrupted him with a deep frown on her face.

            “No, I’m sorry, I was -” he sat forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his desk, resting his forehead against his clasped hands. He tried to look like he was thinking, but he was praying.

            Praying harder than he had in his life.

            After a moment he finished his prayers and finally raised his gaze to the stern look the Seeker was giving him.

             “Commander, I may have a proposition for you,” she said slowly.


	13. The First is The Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: Meanwhile back at the Circle.
> 
> For flow it was easier to focus on Kirkwall in the last chapter and then switch back to Ostwick. This chapter's timeline overlaps the last.
> 
> So many things I could say with this chapter, which I could not write fast enough because I was so excited. Instead I'll just say enjoy and save everything else for comments. <3
> 
> xx,  
> L

            Years passed, and still Evelyn spent her time with the Tranquil more than any others. She was no longer taunted, but she was ignored. Which in all honesty was fine with her. She helped with the daily tasks of the Tranquil, doing research, helping them with their enchantments and alchemy. She enjoyed their even nature, she enjoyed their focused minds. As odd as it was, with time they all began to feel like friends.

            There were still mornings that she woke up crying, or nights that she couldn’t sleep, torn up by longing. She tried to take deep breaths, closing her eyes as she tried to think about something else. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it only made things worse. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, all she could see was his crooked grin above her as he leaned down to capture her lips with his.

            Time made the pain fade, but it never fully went away. It was better when she was busy, and so she focused on assisting others, and kept to herself. Over three years had passed now, as unbelievable as that felt to her. She isolated herself still and was unaware of the tensions bubbling around her in the Circle. She interacted so little with the other mages, or the Templars, and so she missed what tensions were being brought to the surface.

            She missed the news as it came in, though everyone else buried their heads together. They spoke in hushed whispers, their eyes wide with fear as they looked around for the Templars, who returned their looks with equal suspicion.

 

            “There you are, Evelyn, dear,” Gabrielle greeted her. “P-please, take a seat.”

            Evelyn frowned and looked at the First Enchanter. She seemed nervous almost, and cleared her throat lightly as she stared down at where her hands were clasped on the desk. “Is something the matter, First Enchanter?”

            Gabrielle took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I have – have some bad news,” she began.

            Evelyn’s heart leapt into her throat.

            Was it her father?

            Was it – it couldn’t be…she wouldn’t bother telling her if it was about _him_.

            “I’m unsure if you’ve heard, but the Circle in Kirkwall rebelled. We only just received the news, this morning,” Gabrielle said. Her voice cracked a bit and she stared at her hands once more.

            Evelyn’s heart sped up, her breath halted.

            No.

            _No…_

            “W-what happened?”

            “The Chantry was destroyed, the Grand Cleric was murdered – by a mage,” Gabrielle sighed.

            “And what of -” Evelyn’s voice was barely a whisper.

            “The Templars have fallen,” Gabrielle told her.

            Evelyn closed her eyes as she let the words sink in, pressing her lips together to steady herself. “All of them?” she breathed.

            “I-I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” Gabrielle whispered.

            Evelyn sat forward and buried her face in her hands, her body beginning to shake as her sorrow washed over her. Everything came undone, her quiet reserve that she had maintained for the last few years disintegrating as she let loose a heart-stopping wail.

            Gabrielle stood and rushed around the desk, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, Evelyn,” she murmured against her hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m so – so sorry.”

            Evelyn wasn’t aware of the rest of the day. Everything was blackness, torn between complete numbness and agony, absolute despair engulfing her.

            Her patience, her hope, her sacrifices to save him had all been for nothing.

            She didn’t leave her bed for a week.

            When she finally emerged, it was to a different Circle.

            The news from Kirkwall had changed things, until the air almost seemed to buzz with tension. Mages scurried past the Templars, shooting them suspicious glances, huddling together in whispers and quickly scattering when anyone approached.

            It was finally such a tangible change that even Evelyn noticed that things were different, despite her grief and distraction. Her days spent with the Tranquil were becoming tenser, no longer as much of a diversion for her. Every day as they tried to conduct their research, other mages raced by their room, whispering to each other and stealing into the corners of the room to speak with one another. They didn’t think the Tranquil would bother them, but whenever they saw Evelyn they hurried off, as if scared she would go tell a Templar what they had been speaking of.

            Her nerves and anxiety returned, and her days were spent with her stomach in knots, though she didn’t quite know why. The atmosphere nearly crackled with the building tension, and sometimes even Clemence and the other Tranquil would look around as if they noticed the change as well.

            Months passed and the tension continued. Evelyn caught whispers of rebellion, she caught whispers of notions of independence, of all of the Circles putting it to a vote.

            She moved through her days distracted, trying to focus, trying to ignore everything going on. Her sorrow ran so deep she felt split in two, the pain so agonizing she physically ached from it. The anxiety and despair were overwhelming until she was deadened to everything else but those feelings.

            Nothing helped.

            Nothing could ever help again, not in a world where he wasn’t still alive somewhere, still breathing and thinking of her.

 

 

           

            It had been a quiet day, standing in the alchemy lab with Clemence, learning how to make tonics last longer as she assisted him with his work.

            It had almost felt peaceful.

            And then the world shattered, the entire room shaking and glass vials falling off the shelves to break at their feet, pieces flying everywhere.

            Clemence and she ducked, throwing their arms over their heads. She reached out to him and helped cover him, realizing he wouldn’t comprehend everything going on as well as she could, that he had no way to defend himself. She flared a barrier and it helped protect them from the broken shards that were flying through the air.

            Something had exploded within the Circle.

            She heard screams, she heard shouts, calls to action.

            She heard magic.

            She heard Silence falling and cries of pain.

            “Clemence – Clemence are you all right?” she whispered.

            “I am uninjured, Evelyn,” he replied smoothly.

            “We need to get somewhere safe,” she told him, and she raised her head to try to see over the table they had been working at. “Can you follow close to me?”

            “Yes, I can,” he answered. “I would like to remain uninjured.”

            She nodded but didn’t reply, instead taking his hand and slowly leading him crouched to the door. She opened it a crack to look out, and saw smoke and chaos in the corridors.

            She covered her nose with her arm and coughed, squinting her eyes as she tried to see. She could hear what sounded like fighting, of magic being thrown from a staff and deflected by a shield. She tightened her hold on Clemence’s hand and crept out of the room, still hunched over and trying to sneak by unnoticed.

            They made it halfway down the hall when someone grabbed her roughly by the hair and tried to pull her back.

            “Stop! You’re not getting away -” the Templar shouted as he tugged her with him down the hall, making her lose her grasp on Clemence’s hand.

            “Wait! No, it wasn’t me, please, I’m trying to get the Tranquil to safe -”

            She felt herself Silenced, and he continued pulling her with him away from her friend – a friend she needed to protect.

            Evelyn felt the magic in her veins _pop_ , and she focused until suddenly the Silence was broken as her magic flared with her strong, raw power. The air crackled around her, and several lightning bolts struck the ground around them, as if a storm cloud hung over them.

            The Templar started, terrified, and held her away from him with his fist still twisted tight in her hair. She felt a small clump pulled painfully from her scalp. He raised his sword above his head, and she reacted instinctively to protect herself.

            Lightning sparked off of her and struck the man who held her, and he released her as his body tensed, suddenly paralyzed by the shock. She fell to her knees with a gasp, and immediately scurried away from his reach. Clemence was still crouched where she had left him, and she grabbed his hand again and began to run, not bothering to crouch anymore.

            They had to get out of there.

            She led him through the halls, past the fighting to the mage quarters. They raced inside and she hurried to her corner, grabbing her staff and turning to leave. She hesitated for an instant and turned back around, tearing her pillow out of its linens and grabbing the love letter and poem he had given her. She folded them quickly and stuffed the parchment into the band around her breasts before she turned to lead Clemence to safety.

            “Evelyn!” a voice called out.

            She turned, a sharp frown on her face.

            “Evie we have to get out of here,” Grayson said as he hurried toward her.

            She was dumbstruck. “Why would I go _anywhere_ with you?” she spat.

            “They’ll invoke the Rite of Annulment. This wasn’t the plan, we just meant to create a diversion so we could all get away, but I think they knew,” he hurried to explain. “I know – I know what I did to you, but please, they mean to kill us all -”

            “ _You_ did this?” she stared at him, absorbing his words.

            “Not just me, a group of us – we want freedom, Evie,” he tried to grab her arm and she pulled away from him and backed away. “I don’t know how they – how they -”

            His black eyes narrowed and he considered her for a moment. “Did you tell them? Did you find out and tell the Templars? Who is it, who have you taken up with now -”

            “You’re _unbelievable_ ,” Evelyn hissed. She spun away from him and hurried to grab Clemence once more, who was still standing where she had left him.

            “I’m not the one who let a Templar use -”

            “You bastard,” she faced him once more, and the air around her began to buzz with her raw energy. “You still don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t believe after everything, after _everything_ you did that you think that I would want _your_ help. I’d never hated anyone before, Grayson, but I certainly _hate_ _you_.”

            Pure loathing and disgust came across his face as he looked at her. “I just wanted to try to save your life, you little whore, but I should have known you’d be an ungrateful bitch like always -”

            It happened in a flash.

            He stepped forward with his words, and she could feel his magic flaring, his hands curling around the ice he was summoning. She threw an arm out, and as she did she focused with her mind, until she could feel the force of her Blast catch him and fling him back away from her. He was thrown into the air, the force too strong, and he slammed into the wall behind him with a sickening crunch.

            He slid unconscious to the floor, blood trickling from his lips.

            Evelyn tried to take a deep breath, shocked by what had just happened, by what she had just had to do.

            In the span of only a few minutes, she had had to attack two people to save her own life. She had never intentionally harmed anyone before. The only harm she had ever inflicted was by accident that day in the library.

            She was shaking, adrenaline coursing through her. She gulped and shook herself, trying to refocus. She turned back to Clemence and grabbed his hand, leading him from the quarters without a second look back at where Grayson lay, unsure if he was alive or dead.

            She found herself unconcerned with discovering which he was.

            The pair of them hurried through the halls, trying to avoid the fighting as best they could. Evelyn was racing to the room she normally researched in with the other Tranquil, intending to check to see if they were there.

            When she pushed open the door, she found the other Tranquil crowded in a corner, looking as confused as they could.

            “Evelyn, it seems there is -” one of them began when she saw her.

            “I know, I know,” Evelyn hurried into the room. “We need to get out of here. Can you all follow me?”

            The Tranquil nodded and she turned to lead the way, running through the halls once more.

            She slowed when she realized she was near the First Enchanter’s quarters, and the door was blown off its hinges.

            She looked up and down the hall, and told those following her to stay put. Slowly, she walked toward the room, gripping her staff tightly.

            “Gabrielle?” she called softly, and she peered around the cracked door frame to look inside the room. She let out a cry when she saw the First Enchanter, and she hurried forward.

            Gabrielle was lying crumpled at the foot of her desk, covered in blood and coughing up some of the same dark red liquid. She looked up at Evelyn’s cry and tried to give a dazed smile.

            “Evelyn, dear, I -”

            Evelyn threw herself to her knees beside the older woman and tried to summon healing magic to her fingertips, but her hands were shaking and she couldn’t focus. She’d never been as adept at healing magic as she had hoped she would be.

            “I – I have to tell you -” Gabrielle gasped, and she reached out with a hand and grabbed Evelyn’s arm, leaving blood on the sleeve of her robes. “It’s important – I have to tell you -”

            “We have to get you out of here,” she interrupted, but the First Enchanter shook her head sadly.

            “No, there’s no use,” she admitted softly. “But I have to tell you – Cullen – Cullen’s alive.”

            Evelyn’s heart stopped, and for a moment all she could do was stare at the other woman. “What?” she breathed.

            “The first reports were wrong, but – I never – I never told you,” the First Enchanter confessed. “We were worried you would run away, and it was too – too dangerous. We did it to protect you, Evelyn.”

            “We? Who’s we?” Evelyn asked, her voice frantic. “First Enchanter I – you lied to me? You let me think he was dead?”

            Gabrielle’s eyes clenched shut for a moment and she groaned softly in pain. “Yes,” she confessed again. “It’s one of – of the worst things I’ve ever done, keeping you two apart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry we lied to you.”

            She was still saying ‘we,’ and Evelyn was frowning. But the words were sinking in, and something was stirring within her.

            He wasn’t dead.

            He was alive.

            He was in Kirkwall, and the Circles were rebelling, there was chaos.

            If ever there was a time to leave –

            “You must – you must go,” Gabrielle whispered, interrupting her thoughts. The First Enchanter reached into the top of her robes and pulled a key from a small pocket. “This will open – the phylacteries. Take yours. Go.”

            Evelyn stared at the key and reached a shaky hand to it. “Gabrielle, I -”

            “I’m sorry,” the other woman whispered again.

            Footsteps sounded behind them and Evelyn looked up to see Knight-Commander Halwell charging into the room. He took in the sight of Evelyn crouched beside the dying First Enchanter, and she tensed, thinking he would attack.

            But he threw his sword and helmet to the ground and hurried forward to take the First Enchanter into his arms.

            “Gabby,” he murmured, pulling her against his chest as he knelt beside her. “We can – we can heal you -”

            He looked up at Evelyn and she held his gaze, but she slowly shook her head.

            “It’s too late, Hal,” Gabrielle told him. She turned her face up and for a moment they stared at each other.

            Halwell lowered his face to hers and pressed his lips to Gabrielle’s in a chaste, tender kiss.

            Evelyn stared in shock, disbelief coursing through her as she watched the soft moment of love happening before her.

            After a long moment the Knight-Commander pulled away and looked down into the dying woman’s eyes. “I always knew our first kiss would be our last,” he whispered sadly.

            Gabrielle gave a weak smile. “It was a good life, even still, Ha -”

            But her eyelashes fluttered, she gave a rattling breath.

            And she was gone.

            Halwell stared at her for a moment and then pulled her limp body against him, pressing his lips to her hair as he rocked her in his arms.

            Loud bangs and shouts sounded from the hall, pulling them back into reality. The Knight-Commander slowly lowered the body of his love to the floor and cleared his throat.

            “Knight-Commander -” Evelyn began, unsure of what to say. She was overcome by too many emotions.

            “You two weren’t the only ones who wanted more from your lives, and your time together,” he whispered.

            Footsteps were approaching, the sound of battle was echoing through the stone corridors outside. Halwell raised his gaze and looked at the battered door, hesitating. He reached to his belt and took a heavy coin purse from it and held it out to Evelyn.

            “Go,” he told her.

            “What?” she frowned, staring at the offered purse.

            “Go to Kirkwall. He’s still alive. You two have the chance she and I never did,” he forced the purse into her hand. “She always admired you. What we did to you both – it broke her heart. She always wished you’d have the opportunity to be more – and now you do.”

            She held his gaze and saw tears spring into his eyes.

            “Go, Evelyn,” he insisted again.

            “Halwell…” she trailed off and stared at him for a moment. “Thank you.”

           

            Evelyn raced out through the broken door and looked around wildly. The Tranquil had moved slightly down the way, trying to keep themselves from the fighting further down the corridors. She rushed forward and motioned to them to follow, and then led the way, tearing through the stone corridors to safety. They passed fighting, and when blasts came near them Evelyn instinctively threw up barriers to block them all, saving them from the blows of stray magic.

            She led them to the front doors, which were still shut. She hurried to them and focused, closing her eyes and channeling her magic until the two large, heavy wooden doors burst open with a loud _bang_.

            “Through here, keep going,” she pointed and directed the Tranquil following her.

            “Evelyn, are you coming with us?” Clemence asked.

            Evelyn paused, looking down at the key she had clutched in her hand.

            “I’ll be right behind you,” she said after a moment’s indecision. “Go, get away from here. I’ll catch up.”

            The Tranquil began to walk away from the Circle, and Evelyn watched them for a moment before she turned and raced through the corridors once more until she found the door that led to the depths of the keep.

            She blasted it open, destroying the lock with the sheer force of her magic, and sprinted down the halls. She had only been here once, when they had taken the blood from her that they needed, but she still knew the way as if it were branded into her memory. She darted down the halls and blasted open the last door, the one that led to her destination.

            The large metal cabinet of phylacteries was against the wall across from her, and she raced forward to it. She fumbled with the key, her fingers still trembling from adrenaline and anxiety, but she finally managed to open it.

            There they were.

            All of them.

            She stared at the phylacteries, her mind churning.

            For a moment, she thought about only stealing hers and running.

            But she thought about it – she thought about freedom, about no more Circles, no more rules, no more obstacles holding them back.

            With a smile she stepped back and concentrated, holding a hand up as sparks crackled between her fingers. She closed her eyes and let it flow through her, and lightning branched out and ricocheted between the small vials, shattering them all until the entire case was full of blood and broken glass, and not a one remained to be of any use to a Templar.

            Her work done, she turned and fled the keep, intending to keep her promise to Clemence, to help get them to safety.

           

 

 

            Passage out of Ostwick was hard to come by, considering the fact that the Circle had been destroyed and everyone knew to be wary of the rebel mages who had been fleeing through the area.

            Evelyn kept the Tranquil hidden, she got them all hooded cloaks and made them wear them over the brand on their foreheads. She told them not to interact with anyone, so that their tone wouldn’t give it away.

            She bought herself a cloak to hide that she was wearing Circle robes, and she paced the pier, talking with ship captains and trying to book passage to Kirkwall.

            That was her only goal, her only destination. She had to get there, she had to find him. She would bring the Tranquil with her, she would take them with her to safety.

            That was as far as her plan went.

            Get to Kirkwall.

            Find Cullen.

            Save the Tranquil.

            But none of the ship captains on the pier were willing to help her, even when she offered them the money Halwell had given her.

            It wasn’t enough for how many she wanted to book passage for.

            She stood looking forlorn on the harbor, staring at the water and ruefully wondering how terrible it would be to try to swim there.

            She heaved a sigh and turned, intending to return to where Clemence and the others were waiting for her.

            “That’s quite a sigh, love,” a sultry voice called from her right and she turned.

            A curvy, tanned woman stood nearby staring at her with an inquisitive smirk on her face. Evelyn had never met a pirate, but she had read many books about them in the library in her youth – and she knew as soon as she looked at the woman before her that she was a pirate.

            “Is something the matter?” the woman prompted her, and Evelyn noticed a kindness in her eyes as she asked.

            “I – I need to get my friends and I to Kirkwall,” she confessed. “But no one will take us. Either I don’t have enough money or we have too many passengers. And I – I can’t leave any of them behind.”

            The woman’s eyebrows rose as she considered Evelyn. “You need to get you and your friends to Kirkwall? Whatever for?”

            Evelyn bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. “We just do,” she finally murmured.

            “How much can you pay?” the woman asked, a curious frown coming across her face.

            Evelyn lifted the purse in her hands and held it out. The woman frowned and placed a hand beneath it to weigh it.

            “Hmm…could I meet these friends of yours?” she asked.

            Evelyn hesitated. “I – they’re, um…”

            “Don’t worry, love, I’m not going to do anything, I just want to see what kind of passengers I’d be letting on my ship for such a meager fee,” the pirate assured her.

            Evelyn’s heart sped up. “You would take us?”

            The pirate shrugged. “I’m headed there anyway, why not make a little extra coin for a few extra passengers?”

            “They’re – they’re over here,” Evelyn gestured the woman to follow her. The pirate followed her and she led her to where Clemence and the others waited.

            “Hmm,” the other woman mused, and she approached one of the nearest ones. “Are – wait a moment…”

            She gently pushed the hood back on the Tranquil she was standing near, and her eyebrows raised and her eyes widened. She lowered her hand and turned a surprised look to Evelyn. After a long moment’s consideration, she pursed her lips. “You’re from the Circle, aren’t you?”

            “Yes,” Evelyn confessed softly. “But please – I need to get them to safety, we need to get to Kirkwall -”

            “I’m not sure Kirkwall is going to be the safest place for all of you, haven’t you heard?”

            “I – I know someone there, he can help us,” Evelyn confessed.

            “What could he do to help an apostate and a whole gaggle of Tranquil?”

            “He’s – he’s a Tem – a good man,” Evelyn murmured. “He would figure out a way. And it’s got to be better than here.”

            The pirate considered her again. “I was in Kirkwall for several years. What’s his name?”

            “Cullen,” Evelyn breathed, unable to resist confessing it.

            The pirate’s eyebrows rose as high as they could go. “Ohhhhhh,” she said, and Evelyn noticed a funny look come into the woman’s eyes. She was staring intently into Evelyn’s eyes, as if remembering or realizing something. “What’s your name, love?”

            “Evelyn.”

            The pirate’s face broke into a wide grin. “Well, Evelyn. I’m Isabela. And I’ll be the one you should thank for getting all of you to Kirkwall.”


	14. The Space Between

            His new armor fit him better than his Templar armor ever had. Then again, that was partially because he had it made specifically for him.

            He finished fastening the mantle around his shoulders, an addition he hadn’t been able to resist. They were returning to Ferelden, and after years in the Free Marches he wasn’t sure he’d be used to the cold again. He’d given in to his temptation to add the fur-lined mantle to his ensemble under that pretense, when really he just liked the idea of being able to look different, how he wanted to look. Years of a uniform, of specific armor – the choices were his now.

            When he was done getting his new armor on, he walked to the small desk in his quarters and stared down at the items on it, taking a deep, steadying breath.

            A letter lie waiting for him to seal it, beside the box of his lyrium syringes and tools. Cullen stared at the box, and flexed his trembling hand, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the aching that had begun in his head. With another deep breath he smiled to himself slightly and picked the letter up instead. He reread it just once more, making certain it said everything he needed it to say, that it sounded official enough. Determining that it was ready to be sealed, he rolled it and sealed it with wax.

            The lyrium box gave him pause, and he stared at it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to even bring it with him…

            Then again he’d asked Cassandra to watch him, and if he ever needed to resume, it would be better than not to have it with him. He heaved a sigh and picked it up as well.

            The third item on the desk gave him no pause, and he picked the folded sketch up and tucked it into the pocket in his mantle – the same one where he kept Branson’s coin.

            He didn’t take a last look around the room, since it held precious few memories for him. Instead he marched from his quarters to send the letter before they departed.

            “Nice armor,” Thrask greeted him with a smirk when they met up in the hall.

            Cullen grinned slightly but then turned serious. “Is everyone ready to leave?”

            “Yes,” Thrask fell into step with him as he continued on his way. “Are you certain about this?”

            “I think it’s for the best,” Cullen answered. “The Circles are no more, and if they wish to leave I won’t stop them -”

            “Not that, Cullen, I mean this ‘Inquisition’ you’re joining,” Thrask interrupted.

            “Yes,” he answered firmly. “I need to do it.”

            “I would have thought maybe you’d be on the first ship to Ostwick,” the older man mused.

            Cullen swallowed hard but didn’t reply. By all reports coming out of Ostwick, the situation was horrible. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander had both been killed, as well as many of the Senior Enchanters. An explosion in the library had devastated the entire keep and left mass carnage, and there had been intense fighting between the mages and Templars, leaving it difficult to tell how many had died versus escaped. Someone had destroyed all of the phylacteries, and the Templars who were still living had scattered into the area around Ostwick to hunt mages. All they were doing, though, was causing more chaos and destruction, attacking anyone who stood in their way or that they suspected of being a mage or mage sympathizer. It was absolute anarchy.

            There was no word on whether or not Evelyn was alive. There was no way to find out, since they had no way of determining who had died in the uprising and who had run away. And without phylacteries, there was no way to try to find her.

            He thought about the explosion in the library and his heart ached. She had always loved the library, she had spent so many of her days there…

            He cleared his throat and shook his head, looking up to see Thrask watching him closely. “I have to do this,” Cullen said finally.

            “How are you feeling, by the way?” Thrask asked, and Cullen saw him eye the small wooden box he held.

            “I’m fine.”

            His friend furrowed his brows and looked him over, but didn’t say anything. Cullen knew he had to be noticing his clenched jaw and the circles under his eyes, and was glad when the man didn’t press the matter.

            “Knight-Captain Rylen and I will join you once we have gotten everyone to safety,” Thrask told him. “We should be only a month behind you to Haven, perhaps a little more.”

            Cullen nodded. “Excellent.”

            They reached the courtyard of the Gallows, and saw Cassandra and Varric waiting for them.

            “Commander, are you ready to leave?” Cassandra asked.

            “Yes, I am,” Cullen turned to Thrask and held out his hand. “Thank you, Thrask. I’ll see you soon.”

            Thrask clasped his hand and patted him on the shoulder with his other hand. “Yes, yes – safe travels, Cullen.”

            They released each other and Cullen turned to follow Cassandra and Varric to the Docks. He looked around himself as they went, taking in the last of his moments in Kirkwall. He wasn’t sad to be leaving, but he did feel a certain deep melancholy as he walked.

            He realized why as they boarded the ship that would take them to Ferelden.

            He was traveling even further from where she might be, increasing the distance between them.

            He swallowed hard as the ship departed, staring up at the Twins and the Gallows and watching them shrink as he sailed away from Kirkwall.

 

* * *

 

 

            “No, Evelyn, you’re doing it all wrong,” Isabela laughed, and turned to face her once more, spinning her daggers with ease as she did.

            “I lost my balance – Maker, how do you stay so steady with all these waves?” Evelyn asked, trying not to look up at the swaying masts. She’d finally gotten over most of her seasickness, but she still hadn’t gotten used to walking on the ship as it moved over the choppy waves of the sea.

            “Oh come now, it’s the best feeling in the _world_ ,” Isabela purred. “I honestly think, if I had to choose between fucking and sailing, I’d choose sailing.”

            Evelyn shook her head, thinking about the nights she had spent with Cullen. Before she could stop herself she said, “I wouldn’t, that’s for damn sure.”

            Isabela laughed, throwing her head back with her mirth at Evelyn’s candidness. She looked at Evelyn with a twinkle in her eye. “Was he that good? I always thought he looked like a man who would be _wonderful_ to have between your legs.”

            Evelyn blushed and didn’t answer, but that seemed to be enough of an answer for the pirate, who continued her gleeful laughter.

            “All right, all right, here – let’s try again,” Isabela finally calmed herself and readied her daggers again.

            Evelyn sighed and tightened her grip on her own, trying to take up the stance Isabela had taught her.

            The pirate had insisted on training Evelyn with daggers, saying it would be a useful skill even though she was a mage. They had spent a portion of each day of their trip training on the deck, and Isabela seemed pleased with Evelyn’s progress. Besides being unsteady on her feet because of the rocking waves, she was picking up the skills until she was passably proficient with the small weapons.

            Isabela had also given her some armor, clucking her tongue at the thin Circle robes she had been wearing and declaring them insufficient. It hadn’t helped that the robes she had escaped in were damaged from the fighting, and covered in the First Enchanter’s blood. When Evelyn had asked where she had gotten armor that fit her, the pirate had smiled and said it belonged to a friend who was about her size, since Evelyn was about as tiny as an elf.

            Isabela had looked at her funny when she saw her in the armor for the first time, and then chuckled. “You remind me of her, actually. I wonder how Daisy’s doing…” and she had looked out at the sea wistfully for a moment.

            In the evenings Evelyn sat out on the deck, looking up at the stars and making up constellations like she used to when she was a girl. She enjoyed having the open night sky over her, finally able to be out in the night air without worrying about trouble. She smiled a little to herself, remembering how she’d snuck out to stargaze that night, but instead had ended up kissing him as they hid from Halwell…

            “Fond memories?” Isabela asked, taking a seat beside her as she stared up at the stars.

            “Yes,” Evelyn confessed, hugging her knees more tightly to her chest.

            The pirate considered her for a moment and then passed her the bottle she was drinking from. Evelyn accepted it and took a small swig, but choked and sputtered as the liquid burned her throat going down. Isabela smirked but did her best not to laugh at her, and Evelyn coughed until she calmed. The burning dulled to a pleasurable heat in her throat, and she took another drink, and then another before she passed it back.

            Isabela smiled at her as she took a deep gulp of the strong liquor. “It’s been a long time since you saw him, hasn’t it?” she asked after several long moments of silence.

            “Yes, it’s been years,” Evelyn murmured sadly.

            “And you still think about him? You haven’t – ah, tested anyone else’s waters?” The pirate raised an eyebrow, as if she was surprised.

            Evelyn shook her head. “No, there’s no one. Only him.”

            “I admire your dedication,” the pirate teased. “You know, I knew him in Kirkwall. He was friends with Hawke, who’s one of my dearest friends.”

            “Hawke?” Evelyn asked, confused. The pirate said the name like she should know it.

            “Have you been living under a rock? Do they not tell you anything at those Circles?” Isabela raised her eyebrows at her as she handed her the liquor bottle again.

            Evelyn shrugged. “I stopped paying attention,” she explained, and took a few small gulps from the bottle.

            Isabela nodded slightly. “Well, regardless,” she sighed. “I just thought you should know – he only ever spoke of you. Hawke managed to get it out of him one night. I’ve never seen a man look so happy and yet so sad when speaking of a woman.”

            Evelyn brushed at the tear that slid down her cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured.

            “Of course, dear,” the pirate passed her the bottle once more. “Now drink up, it helps with the melancholy. You’re on your way to him, time to act a little happier.”

            Evelyn chuckled and accepted the bottle.

 

 

 

            “Finally,” Evelyn muttered to herself as she stepped off the gangplank onto the Docks. She took a minute to steady her footing, solid ground feeling odd beneath her once more. Clemence and the others followed her, looking around themselves mildly.

            “Well, dear,” Isabela said as she approached them. “Welcome to Kirkwall. The Gallows are pretty obvious, and that should be where you can find your beloved.”

            The pirate turned to point at the Gallows, but was interrupted by a sharp call of “Isabela!” from nearby.

            Evelyn and Isabela both looked over their shoulders and saw a red-headed woman wearing heavy armor approaching.

            “What are you doing here?” the woman asked as she stopped before them. She stared at Isabela for a moment and then took in Evelyn’s appearance beside her, frowning sharply.

            “Aveline! What a pleasure,” Isabela purred. “You know me, I just can’t get enough of Kirkwall. Thought I’d come back for a visit, see how you and Donnic are doing.”

            Aveline was still looking over Evelyn, noticing the armor with an increasing scowl before she raised her eyes to the Tranquil surrounding them. “What’s the real reason?” she asked skeptically.

            “I had some business. Plus, I was helping out some friends,” the pirate shrugged and gestured to Evelyn. “Aveline, this is Evelyn. Evelyn, Aveline. She’s the guard-captain, and another friend of Hawke’s.”

            “Nice to meet you,” Evelyn nodded her head at the tall guard-captain.

            “A pleasure,” Aveline returned. “What business, Isabela?”

            “Damn, I was hoping I’d distracted you,” Isabela chuckled. “Well first things first, Evelyn and her friends need to speak with the Knight-Commander.”

            “The Knight-Commander?” Aveline asked and looked at Evelyn.

            “Yes, we – we have business with him,” Evelyn said, unwilling to admit anything more.

            “I was going to show her the way, care to come along? I’d love to catch up,” Isabela suggested, and she turned to lead the way without waiting for an answer.

            Evelyn motioned to the Tranquil behind her to follow, glancing over them all to make sure they had their hoods pulled up. Aveline was looking at them suspiciously as she fell into step with the pirate ahead of them.

            “Is that some of Merrill’s armor?” she asked sternly.

            Isabela laughed. “It was better than what she had on, trust me.”

            Evelyn trailed behind the two women, her mind swirling as thoughts chased each other across her mind. She barely took in her surroundings, not noticing the lingering wreckage of the streets, the signs of what had happened so many months before when the Circle fell. She glanced behind herself occasionally to check that her friends were still following, making sure no one was harassing them or bothering them.

            Her hands were shaking, her heart racing.

            She was here.

            She was going to see him.

            She wondered a bit what he would say, what he would think.

            She suddenly wondered if he still loved her.

            Doubt, hope, and eager anticipation chased each other through her mind and she tried taking deep breaths to calm herself. But she was shaking like a leaf, her frantic heartbeat the only thing she could hear.

            They reached a large courtyard that sat before the daunting keep Isabela had pointed out as the Gallows. Aveline and Isabela stopped their conversation as Aveline suddenly called out, “Knight-Commander, a moment please,” to a man standing across the courtyard.

            Evelyn’s stomach lurched and she almost thought she would faint at the words. She turned to look at who the guard-captain had addressed, excited beyond words, a smile coming across her face –

            A tall Templar with red hair and a red goatee turned with a frown, but when he saw Aveline and the group she led he hastily walked over to join them.

            “Guard-Captain, how can I help you?” he asked.

            “Knight-Commander, this young woman said she has business with you,” Aveline gestured to Evelyn.

            “Wait, Aveline -” Isabela began, obviously confused.

            “I – Knight-Commander? I thought -” Evelyn stepped forward and looked at Isabela, equally confused.

            The Templar before them was frowning as he looked at the hooded Tranquil and the pirate, and then his gaze fell on Evelyn. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose as he looked over her face, and he stared intently into her lightning eyes for a moment.

            A wide smile broke across his face.

            “Evelyn, I presume?” he asked, and she noticed an eager hint in his voice.

            “I – yes, I am,” she frowned, her heart sinking, confusion coursing through her. “How do you know who I am?”

            “Cullen told me how beautiful you were, but I’m not sure his words did you justice,” the Templar replied.

            Her heart skipped a beat. “You know Cullen? Please, I came here to see him, can you -”

            The man’s face fell, his smile faltered. “He – he’s not here,” he answered sadly.

            Evelyn felt tears spring into her eyes. “What do you mean? Where is he? I – I came all this way, I need his help -”

            “He’s on his way to Ferelden, to the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” the man replied.

            “What? Why?” she asked, crestfallen and astonished.

            “He has – taken a bit of a change in jobs,” the Templar said. Evelyn frowned at him. “He has left the Templar Order, he’s joined the Inquisition. They’re on their way to the Conclave.”

            Evelyn was still frowning, hardly understanding any of what he was saying. The only thing that sunk in was that he wasn’t here; she had come all this way just to miss him. “But – but what am I going to do? I came all this way, my friends, we need his help…” she looked around herself, trying to think, trying to process everything.

            “Who are your friends?” the man asked, taking in the hooded figures standing behind her.

            Evelyn looked to Isabela, unsure. The pirate caught her eye and nodded, indicating she should tell him. Evelyn sighed and gestured to Clemence. “They’re Tranquil – we escaped together from Ostwick when the Circle rebelled. I hoped – I was hoping Cullen could help us. We have nowhere else to go.”

            The Templar was staring at her, an odd look in his eyes. It almost looked like approval, wonder, or even pride. “I see,” he finally said. He folded his arms and looked over the group before him. For several long moments he looked lost in thought, silently nodding his head as if mulling something over.

            “I suppose,” Isabela sighed and looked at Evelyn. “I could get you to Ferelden, to the nearest port to the Temple…”

            “You would do that?” Aveline asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “What can I say, all those years with Hawke rubbed off on me,” the pirate sighed. “She’s positively ruined me.”

            “That won’t be necessary,” the Templar interjected. “I myself am departing in two days to make the journey to Haven. Knight-Captain Rylen and I also intend to join the Inquisition. We remained behind to see our charges to safety, to arrange things in the city after Cullen relinquished command.”

            Evelyn’s stomach tied into knots. “You – you would take us with you? My friends, too? I can’t leave them behind -”

            “Of course, we will arrange it,” the man answered. “I’m sure we could find a way to put their skills to use.”

            Her face broke into a wide smile. “You mean it?”

            “Yes, Evelyn,” the man replied. “Cullen once saved my life. It’s the least I can do to repay him. Besides, it’s the right thing to do – you’ve both been through enough.”

 

 

 

            Evelyn stood on the Docks, watching the ship be loaded with its supplies. Clemence and the others were already aboard, and nearby Thrask and Rylen were giving orders to some of the others who were joining them.

            “Oh good, I haven’t missed you,” a voice called behind her, and she turned to see Isabela sauntering over to her. “I wanted to be sure I said goodbye.”

            Evelyn gave her a wide, slightly teary smile. They hadn’t spent very long together, but she already felt incredibly close to the other woman. “Thank you for everything, Isabela. I – I don’t think I can ever repay you.”

            The pirate chuckled and pulled her into a hug. “Just go find your lover – and _enjoy_ yourself,” she murmured. “Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other again.”

            They pulled away from each other, Isabela still holding her by the shoulders as she looked her over. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Take care, dear.”

            “You too, Isabela,” Evelyn brushed at the tear that had escaped the corner of her eye finally.

            The pirate gave her one last smirk and turned away, heading down the Docks to her own ship.

            “Are you ready, Evelyn?” Thrask asked from behind her.

            She turned with a bright smile.

            “Yes, I am.”

  

* * *

 

 

             “Well, Curly, are you happy to be on solid ground again?” Varric teased from beside him.

            Cullen shook his head, wanting to laugh, wanting to say something, but he still felt slightly nauseated and his head was throbbing. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if it was his withdrawal or if he truly had been seasick the entire journey. It was probably some combination of the two, but either way he was miserable.

            “Ah you’ll be fine,” the dwarf continued with a chuckle. “Only a few days to Haven, you have time to adjust again.”

            Cullen nodded and looked around the docks they were standing on. Only a few days to Haven, and then a few weeks to prepare for the Conclave. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt nervous when he thought about it. There was so much to do, the daunting task of Commander before him, the daunting task of trying to broker peace between the mages and Templars, to keep the peace during negotiations.

            He hoped he could succeed, he hoped he did a good job. He hadn’t been anything but a Templar, and not a great one, for almost fourteen years. He wasn’t sure how he would manage being anything else for the first time in his life.

            But another hope had taken root in him during the journey to Ferelden, a hope he tried to fight so that he didn’t devastate himself if it didn’t come true.

            A hope that maybe, just maybe, Evelyn would find her way to the Conclave somehow.

            “Are you ready, Commander?” Cassandra asked from behind him.

            He turned with a curt nod.

            “Yes, I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized I tried to keep the 'years passing' straight, but let's just say - this has followed the timeline of DA2 and pretend I kept it all straight with how long it's been...yeah. That works.


	15. At Long Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe it's all down to the thought of her,  
> Maybe it's all down to the loss we learned.  
> Knew for a long time, for all it's worth -  
> I wanted to run to you.  
> What if I'm caught up on it's me you're calling?  
> What if I'm lost now, plus if demons come in?  
> When she kissed me I felt a new freedom, or something."
> 
> -'Moments Passed' by Dermot Kennedy

            “It seems we made it just in time,” Thrask mused beside her as they took in the sight of the procession to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

            “Do you think the Conclave is starting – today? I thought for certain it had already begun,” Evelyn frowned.

            Thrask shrugged. “Nothing to do but ask and find out,” he answered. “Let’s go see -”

            “You said Cullen was the Commander?” she interjected, not listening to her companion’s words.

            “Yes.”

            “So maybe he’s already at the Temple,” she pursed her lips for a moment. “Thrask, can you -”

            She turned to look up at the older man and he chuckled at her. “I’ll see to the others, you go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

            Evelyn smiled at him and passed him her small traveling pack. She hurried through the crowd, following the people moving along the path to the Temple but pushing through it, feeling too impatient for manners.

            Their journey had taken slightly longer than they anticipated, but all that mattered was that they were there. She was in the same place he was, she was going to see him…

            Thrask had spent the journey getting to know her, telling her stories of Cullen and his time in Kirkwall, telling her of everything they had done together.

            Telling her of how Cullen had only ever thought of and spoken of her.

            How he had helped defend the mages, remembering and honoring his fond memories of her as he did so.

            How after all this time, it was clear that he still loved her.

            Thrask had seemed eager to get to know the woman who so fascinated his friend, and he seemed to take an almost paternal pride in his friend’s choice.

            Evelyn smiled the whole time she was pushing through the crowd, sometimes running into the snow surrounding the path to rush ahead. Cullen was the Commander, he would be at the Temple already, preparing the Conclave. She was certain of it.

            She finally reached the Temple and made her way through the doors, but hesitated and looked around. She didn’t see any sign of him, but it seemed like the main part of the Conclave would be happening further in. She wove her way through the people in the main hall, looking around as she did. There was a path to her left, and it looked like maybe it led the way she needed to go.

            She hurried down it, but halfway along the hall she stopped suddenly, listening intently.

            There was a deep voice, giving directions, but then –

            There is was again.

            Someone cried out for help.

            Evelyn hesitated, looking around herself. The cries seemed to be coming from a door further down the hall.

            Her hands were shaking, but the voice cried out again.

            Someone was in trouble, and no one else was around.

            She waited only a moment longer before she took off at a run, heading toward the sound.

            She opened the door, intending to find out what was going on –

  

* * *

  

            This wasn’t at all what he had expected.

            Of everything that could have gone wrong at the Conclave, a large Breach in the sky, demons raining from tears into the Fade, the Divine killed along with countless others – those things had certainly been nowhere on his list of possible scenarios.

            Everything was a blur, he was beyond exhausted. The last few days had been a never-ending battle, commanding the few soldiers they had, commanding Templars and mages willing to help to try to ward off the demons. He hadn’t slept, he’d barely eaten or had any water.

            He wasn’t sure it would ever end.

            Cassandra and Leliana were in Haven, trying to maintain order, trying to save the prisoner they had, trying to determine what was happening. Cullen hadn’t even seen them, he’d been too busy coordinating the fight to protect Haven and try to stop the demons that continued to pour out of the sky.

            As soon as the Temple had exploded, he had charged off, leading the forces. He was losing track of time, he was losing track of anything but the desperate need to protect, to try to stop this.

            “The prisoner’s awake, Commander!” one of the soldiers cried. “Cassandra is bringing her this way -”

            But Cullen barely nodded to him before he charged back into the battle as another shade emerged from the tear above him.

            He wondered at Cassandra’s acceptance of the advice of the strange elven apostate, but he supposed any hope was better than no hope. And if this prisoner who had walked out of the Fade could do something about these tears in the Veil, he supposed it was worth letting them try.

            He wasn’t sure how long had passed since the soldier had reported that Cassandra was on her way. There was a sudden influx of demons from the rift above them, and he was consumed with battle.

            He heard shouts behind him, he heard a few familiar voices, he thought he heard Cassandra.

            A shade charged him and he readied himself, raising his shield.

            The air around him crackled, a buzzing began, and before his eyes a dome of slightly bluish purple magic sprang into being, creating a shimmering haze between he and the shade. It sparkled, like stars – it was beautiful, it was electric –

            His heart stopped beating as the hit from the shade was deflected by the barrier that had just been erected before him, and a bolt of lightning suddenly struck the shade as it recoiled.

            Time slowed, the sounds of battle faded away as he turned to look behind him. Standing there, behind him –

            Her.

            _Evelyn_.

            Everything else slipped away as he watched the air around her swirl with her electric magic, lightning flying off of her and paralyzing the demons and shades that surrounded them all. Her eyes were positively sparking with intensity, loose strands of hair that had fallen out of her long braid blowing softly around her face as her magic moved the air around her.

            The enemies around them fell, killed by her raw power, and then she flung her hand up, a glowing mark of green on it erupting and channeling energy into the rift above them. Something changed – the rift began to close.

            When it was over, she gasped, and her arm fell back to her side as if she was exhausted.

            And then she turned her gaze and caught his eye.

            A slow, radiant smile came across her face.

            Time stopped, and for a moment they simply stared at one another.

            The others were talking, but Cullen didn’t hear any of it. He didn’t know the Seeker was speaking to him, he wasn’t aware that she was asking him a question.

            He dropped his shield and sword and took a few steps forward, slowly at first, and then he broke into a run to close the distance between them.

            She dropped her staff just as he reached her, and he instantly wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her against his chest as she clung tightly to his neck, her feet dangling against his armored legs.

            They collided in a kiss, leaning toward one another in unison, the force of it pressing his lips against his teeth so hard they ached at the contact. Her fingers slid into his hair and he tightened his grip on her as he twisted his mouth against hers, his tongue plunging eagerly into her mouth to taste her, to feel her. She was responding just as ardently, just as eagerly trying to re-familiarize herself with him. Their lips and tongues fell into their natural rhythm, as if the years hadn’t passed, as if they had kissed every day for the last several years they had been apart.

            Moments passed, and stretched into an eternity.

            Finally they pulled away at the same moment, golden eyes locking with lightning ones.

            She was crying, tears sliding unheeded down her cheeks, giggles escaping her as she smiled more beautifully than he’d ever seen.

            “Evelyn,” he murmured, looking over her face, taking it all in. She was thinner again, and though years had passed he saw little change in her face, except perhaps a slightly different look in her eyes. She had lost a bit of the wide-eyed, curious wonder that she’d had, instead looking wiser, more experienced.

            “Cullen – Cullen,” she cried happily and pressed a few soft kisses to his lips. “I love you – I love you. I came to find you, I -”

            He crushed her against him, tightening his grip even more where he held her. The words were a balm on his soul, soothing all of the years of pain, the ache that had been ever present in his heart suddenly gone. “I love you, Evelyn, I love you – always,” he replied. He kept whispering it as he held her, and she buried her face in his neck, crying softly.

            Beside them he heard someone pointedly clearing their throat, and he realized that the Seeker had been trying to get his attention for a while. With one last kiss to Evelyn’s cheek he finally set her back on her feet and turned to look at Cassandra.

            “I take it this is -” the Seeker began.

            “Yes,” he replied. He had briefly told her about Evelyn when she had asked him about his departure from Ostwick, but he hadn’t elaborated or told her his love’s name.

            Cassandra had an interesting look on her face and looked between the two. Cullen opened his mouth to say something, but beside him Evelyn suddenly gave a yelp of pain and bent over, clutching her hand. He turned and gripped her shoulders, his eyes wide as he tried to peer into her face.

            “Love, what is it – what’s wrong?” he asked hurriedly.

            She was holding her left hand, the glowing green mark on it almost seeming to shoot off spurts of energy, almost sparking each time it did.

            “We need to get her to the Breach,” Solas said. “The mark – it is becoming more unpredictable.”

            Evelyn raised her eyes to his and gave him a sad smile. “It’s – it’s killing me,” she whispered.

            His heart sank, his stomach tied into knots. “No, no – I won’t let it.”

            He stood and looked between Solas and Cassandra. “What can we do?”

            “I believe if she can stabilize the Breach – it may stabilize her mark as well,” Solas answered.

            Cullen nodded. “Then that’s what we need to do,” he stated firmly. He wouldn’t let her be taken from him, not again. “Seeker Cassandra, I will gather our forces, and we will escort her to the Temple.”

            Cassandra nodded.

            He reached down and helped Evelyn straighten, giving her waist a reassuring squeeze before he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “We’ll get you there – we’ll fix this. I promise.”

            She gave him a smile and nodded before she bent down to pick her staff up once more. She looked at the Seeker. “We should go,” she said.

            Cullen gathered the forces that were there, he gathered everyone he could. They all proceeded down the path, continuing to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He watched Evelyn out of the corner of his eye, noticing her frequent grimaces, as if she was still in pain. He wished there was more he could do, but he knew – the best thing he could do was get her to the Breach, to help her stabilize it. He had a goal. He had something he could do. He wouldn’t lose her again.

            Whenever she caught his eye she smiled softly, her eyes moving over his face as if she had been starved for the sight of it. He knew too that his gaze must have mirrored hers, both drinking up the mere presence of one another.

            They reached the ruins and he noticed Evelyn’s pace slow as she took in the devastation. “Maker, is this -” but she trailed off, her eyes wide.

            “Do you remember?” he asked softly, giving her hand a brief squeeze.

            “No, I – I don’t remember anything. I was looking for you, I thought you’d be in the Conclave…” she shook her head as she took in the destruction, and the ashen corpses of the explosion’s victims.

            They continued on their way, Evelyn occasionally shaking out her hand, her lips tightening against her teeth as she did so. He took deep breaths, trying to steady himself. He walked purposefully. He didn’t let his fear overwhelm him.

            They made it to the rift beneath the Breach, and Solas inspected it, explaining what needed to be done. It was going to attract demons, it was going to mean a fight.

            Cullen gave orders to the forces behind them, he made sure everyone was ready.

            He was ready to fight with everything he had, his exhaustion from earlier disappearing entirely as he focused. His reason for fighting was renewed, as he watched her step forward beneath the rift. He watched her take a steadying breath, and then she peered over her shoulder and locked eyes with him.

            He nodded, and she returned the gesture.

            She raised her left hand into the air and focused, and the same green energy from earlier erupted up to the rift, and it tore open.

            For a while, there was only chaos and battle.

            Demons and shades poured out of the rift, and he lost himself in his focus on defeating them. He glanced around occasionally to look for her, to make sure she was safe. He felt relief course through him every time he caught sight of her alive and well, standing some distance away as she threw her lightning at their foes. Frequently when an enemy approached him, the tell tale shimmer of her barrier appeared before him to protect and deflect any blows directed at him.

            She focused on the rift, trying to close it, while he and Cassandra tried to defeat the large pride demon that had managed to slip through the tear in the Veil. He threw himself into the fight, striking again and again, thinking only about how he had to save her, that he had been reunited with her. If he saved her, they had forever ahead of them. That was worth everything, it was the only thing worth fighting for.

            The air finally swirled above them, the pride demon finally falling under one of Cassandra’s powerful blows, and he saw the rift above them close as if knitting itself back together.

            A scream of agony rent the air and he turned, watching as Evelyn collapsed to her knees, losing consciousness.

            He raced forward and caught her as she slumped sideways, pulling her tight against his chest. He ran a hand along her neck, feeling for a pulse, and he felt it beating beneath his finger, though it was rapid and faint. He put an arm beneath her knees and lifted her, determined to get her back to Haven, to get her to a healer.

            Cassandra, Leliana, and Solas fell into step with him as he took up a rapid pace through the Temple ruins. The soldiers that had accompanied him all parted to the sides of the path, allowing him through. Some of them fell to their knees, others were crying, hands clasped in prayer as they watched him pass. He frowned slightly, but didn’t give it much thought – all he knew was that he had to get her to safety, and quickly.

            “Commander, is she all right?” Cassandra finally asked from beside him.

            “She’s still breathing, but -” he shook his head, unsure of what was wrong with her.

            “I am sure she will be all right, Commander,” Solas chimed in smoothly.

            Cullen hoped the other man was right.

            When they reached Haven, the villagers and forces there parted and let him pass much the same way as those in the Temple ruins did. He heard prayers being shouted, declarations that she had been sent by Andraste, thanks to the Maker being sobbed into the air.

            He hurried to the vacant hut Cassandra led him to, not bothered by the reactions their passing was receiving. He stooped and passed through the door, careful to make sure she wasn’t bumped on any part of the frame, and took a few long strides to the bed. He laid her upon it as Adan ran into the room. Cullen stood near the side of her bed as Adan and Solas examined her and healed her, both men working rapidly.

            Finally Solas stood and nodded at Cullen. “She needs rest, but she will be fine,” he announced.

            “And the mark?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowed. It was still there, a gash of green across her left palm.

            “It remains, as does the Breach. But both are stabilized,” the elf replied. “She is out of danger.”

            Cullen nodded, feeling relief sweep over him. He closed his eyes, and swayed as he did, his extreme exhaustion suddenly catching up with him.

            “We should plan our next move,” he heard Cassandra saying, but he sank to the edge of the bed, his head in hands. “Commander, are you all right?”

            “When was the last time you slept?” Leliana chimed in.

            “I can’t remember,” he sighed.

            “We should let you get some rest, then,” Cassandra said firmly. “We’ll leave you two alone.”

            Cullen smirked a little but didn’t look up. It was amusing to him how quickly she assumed, like she just knew, that this was where he was going to stay. He nodded and murmured his thanks before he heard the others depart.

            He shook himself and stood, realizing he needed to get out of his armor before he fell asleep where he was. He set the pieces on the floor carefully, stripping naked before he walked over to bar the door. Evelyn was still in her armor, and for a moment he hesitated. It couldn’t be comfortable, though, and he decided he could always beg forgiveness later if she was upset with his actions.

            He carefully, tenderly stripped her before he crawled into the bed beside her, and he pulled the blankets over both of them. He curled his body around her, burying his face against her hair. She murmured softly in her sleep and he smiled to himself.

            His eyes closed and all he was aware of was her warm skin against his and the scent of rain filling his nostrils.

            He hadn’t slept in days, not since the Breach appeared. But now that he was curled around her once more, he realized it was probably more accurate to say he hadn’t really slept in years.

            Peace as he hadn’t known since they were torn from each other came over him, and he fell into much needed, welcome slumber with his love once more in his arms.


	16. Safe and Sound

            The first thing Evelyn was aware of was how warm she was, how absolutely _safe_ she felt.

            The second thing she was aware of was the sound of deep breathing, soothing and calming to her nerves.

            She opened her eyes and took in her surroundings without moving her head, trying to determine where she was.

            She stopped worrying when she realized exactly where she was.

            She was in his arms again.

            She smiled to herself, closing her eyes for a moment with a contented sigh as she took it all in.

            He had both arms wrapped around her, lying on his side behind her, holding her as tightly to him as he could. She reached a hand up to the arm wrapped across her collarbone and gently stroked it with her thumb, his skin hot, the golden hair on it soft.

            It took her a few moments to realize she was naked, but so was he – she could feel all of his warmth pressed against her, no space left between them for the air to breathe. She lay rubbing her fingers along his arm for a moment as she tried to remember what had happened.

            She remembered running into the Temple.

            She didn’t remember anything after that until she was being interrogated by a woman – Cassandra – and then escorted out to look at the Breach. She remembered the fear and terror in everyone’s eyes as they looked at her. She remembered the pain in her hand.

            She held her left palm out suddenly, looking at it. There was a long green gash-like mark across it, and while it was no longer glowing it was still obviously infused with power. She frowned, staring at it and completely unsure what to make of it. It was no longer hurting, no longer sparking and letting off energy. It had to have stabilized, like the mage Solas said it would, otherwise she didn’t think she’d be laying in bed with Cullen wrapped around her.

            She would have been dead.

            She stared for a moment longer at the mark on her hand and heaved a sigh. Coming to the Conclave had been desire, it had been desperate need to reunite with him, it had been impulse. All she had wanted was to be with him again, but now…

            What would happen to her now? What did all of this mean?

            And what, for the love of the Maker, happened after she entered the Temple?

            She released another sigh and Cullen gave a soft groan in his sleep before he shifted and moved onto his back. She smiled to herself and rolled over so that she could drink in the delicious sight of him. She propped herself on an elbow and stared down into his face, taking in all of the changes.

            He needed a shave, his stubble more pronounced and darker than normal, like it had been many days since he’d last shaved. He had bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in ages. She noticed crinkling wrinkles at the outer corners of his eyes, marking the passage of time and hardships he’d been through since she’d last seen him.

            But she stared longest at the newest addition to his face, something she had noticed when she first saw him but didn’t have time to study or ask him about.

            A jagged scar now graced the corner of his mouth, on the side that always tugged up when he grinned at her. It was prominent, starting on his cheek level with his nostril and going all the way down his top lip, as if his lip and cheek had been torn entirely and allowed to knit back together naturally instead of by magic. She frowned as she pictured how horrible the injury must have been, how it must have looked while it healed. She reached up with a finger and lightly traced it, feeling an odd assortment of emotions come over her.

            When they had seen each other, it was like nothing had changed. The pain had disappeared; indeed she had felt full to bursting with sheer happiness. But now she stared down at him, realizing suddenly just how many years had gone by, how much they had both been through.

            She felt slightly anxious looking down at him, wondering if somehow time would still manage to come between them, even now that they had been reunited.

            She traced his scar again, and then the soft worry lines on his forehead, lines that he hadn’t had when he had been at Ostwick. She worried over his dark circles under his eyes, curious if he was just exhausted or if there was something more to them.

            She turned her focus to his body, looking it over, looking for new scars or marks, reacquainting herself with his freckles and old scars. She trailed her finger over each of them, enjoying the sight of all of him, enjoying how familiar and _right_ it felt to see him lying beside her once more.

            They may have both changed, time may have passed, but as she studied his body while he slept she knew that there was nothing that could change this feeling inside her. Instead, she found herself looking forward to getting to know everything about who he was now, getting to know the man their years apart had made him.

            She was still tracing her finger over his chest when he suddenly stirred, one of his arms wrapping around her shoulders as he shifted to face her a bit better. She raised her gaze to his and saw his amber eyes staring back at her, a soft smile playing on his lips – the scar tugged up with his crooked grin. Somehow she found the sight tantalizing, her heart racing, fluttering beginning in her stomach.

            “How are you, love?” he murmured sleepily.

            She smiled softly. “I’m fine, I think,” she answered. “What happened?”

            “You passed out. Solas said you drained yourself, overexerted yourself to close the rift,” he explained. He lifted his other hand to his face and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “You’ve been asleep for two days.”

            “Two days?” she raised her eyebrows. “I – I didn’t think it had been that long…did you stay the whole time?”

            “No, no, I came back again last night,” he told her with another smile.

            “Busy acting as the _Commander_?” she mused with a giggle.

            “Yes,” he sighed.

            “Fancy title,” she teased softly, but he frowned down at her.

            “Speaking of titles,” he said slowly. “ _Herald of Andraste_.”

            “What?” she frowned, thoroughly confused.

            “That’s – that’s what they’re calling you,” he held her gaze. “You walked out of the Fade, Evelyn. _Physically_ walked out of the Fade. They – they saw a woman behind you, and many believe it to have been, well – to have been Andraste herself.”

            Evelyn’s eyes widened and she raised her eyebrows. “I – I did what? Cullen, I don’t remember any of that, still.”

            “What do you remember?” he had an intense look in his eyes.

            She shrugged lightly as she thought about it. “I arrived with Thrask, and I went to the Temple. I was looking for you,” she tried to think harder but shook her head. “I was – I don’t know. I was looking for you, and then I woke up and Cassandra was asking me questions, accusing me of killing the Divine…”

            Cullen nodded absently, looking as if he was mulling something over. “She doesn’t think that anymore, by the way,” he told her, and he gave her another grin.

            “Oh good, I was beginning to wonder if I was still going to be dragged off to Val Royeaux for trial,” she muttered. She leaned back onto the pillows and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. Her head was aching slightly, as if she’d slept far too long, as if she hadn’t slept long enough.

            It was Cullen’s turn to prop himself on an elbow, and he gently brushed hair off her face as he peered down at her. She opened her eyes again and looked up at him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

            “I never stopped thinking about you,” he murmured, and leaned down to press a tender kiss to her lips. He pulled back and continued to grin down at her, one hand still stroking her hair.

            She reached up with a finger and traced the scar by his mouth, and she noticed a change in his eyes as she did. It almost looked like apprehension. “How did you get it?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

            “I – ah – took a blow from Knight-Commander Meredith that was meant for Hawke,” he said slowly. “Her gauntlet tore the skin.”

            Evelyn frowned deeper and continued to trace the mark for a moment longer. He was watching her face, and she could tell he still looked slightly worried. She gave him a warm smile. “I think I like it,” she murmured.

            He grinned, and she knew that she definitely liked it in that moment. The slanted, upward pull of his grin had always been one of her favorite sights. She was quiet for a few moments, thinking. Finally she looked up at him, considering. “We have so much to catch up on, I don’t even know where to begin,” she finally admitted.

            He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Luckily for us, we have plenty of time,” he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips again. She noticed a sweet, chaste reserve in his kisses and caresses, as if he was making sure he didn’t push any boundaries. As if he was unsure of himself. It was especially endearing considering they were already naked in each other’s arms.

            She reached a hand up to his cheek and stroked it with her thumb, her eyes searching his face. “I missed you, more than I could ever put into words,” she told him.

            He smiled and a gleam came into his eyes. “I know the feeling,” he said.

            His eyes held their old sparkle, the one that normally hinted at passion, at longing. But still he simply gazed down into her face, his smile warm.

            “Cullen,” she whispered, finally resolving to speak her mind. She slid her hand to the back of his neck and tried to pull him closer. “I love you. I – I need you, I want to feel you inside me again.”

            His hand slid from where he had been stroking her hair, down her cheek and neck until he reached her breast. He held her gaze as he began to caress her, and her eyes fluttered shut as she gave a soft moan. It had been so long, it had been too long – the need was bubbling up to the surface, and every move he made against her felt electric.

            He lowered his mouth to hers, first just pressing his lips against hers, brushing them softly just like that first night, that first time. It stirred emotions in her that she had almost thought were gone forever, numbed from their years apart. She had felt so hollow and deadened for so many years that the return of happiness and belonging nearly overwhelmed her until she felt tears coming to her eyes.

            Cullen’s tender kiss intensified, slanting against and parting her lips as he did so, sliding his tongue within the wet heat of her mouth as he sought her tongue. She eagerly met it with gentle touches, their tongues meeting again and again until they finally slid against each other in a possessive dance.

            Evelyn moaned, tasting him once more pushing her to new heights as it brought back memories from all those years before.

            But it was finally better than the memories, because he was here, touching her, tasting her, his naked body pressed close against hers.

            He slid his hand down the front of her to her thigh and pulled it aside, finally rolling over on top of her and settling his hips between her legs. He continued their deep kiss as his hand wandered over her body, his other twisting into her hair, his elbow resting above her shoulder.

            After all these years, he still caressed her so intimately, as if he knew her body like the back of his hand, as if he knew it better than she did. He pressed his hand between her legs and ran his fingers over her, slipping them into her, running them lightly over her pearl until she broke their kiss with a gasp. He immediately recaptured her lips, moving against her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He had been hesitant before, but now he was hungry, devouring, needy.

            She trailed her fingers from where she had been gripping his back, dragging her nails across his skin as she reached lower. She felt his hard length against her and took it in one hand, eliciting a guttural moan against her lips as soon as she touched him.

            Touching him again was like heaven. She grasped him and pumped him slowly, re-familiarizing herself with the velvety, thick part of him that had always felt so at home when it was within her.

            He suddenly groaned and tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, finally pulling back from the suffocating kiss to stare into her eyes. For a moment he simply held her gaze, and then he gave her a crooked grin, his brow furrowing slightly as he reached down between them. He lightly brushed aside her hand and took his hard length in his own, directing it to her opening.

            Cullen held her gaze, an intense look in his eyes as he slowly thrust himself into her until he was as deep as he could get, his pelvis and hip bones grinding sharply against hers as he tried to push even deeper. She gasped, fighting her eyelashes fluttering shut over her eyes, trying to keep them open so that she could hold his passionate gaze.

            Evelyn was whole again, the part of her that had been missing for years was returned.

            She watched his brows furrow as he took a deep breath, still staring into her eyes as he finally began to roll his hips against hers. He moved slowly at first, trying to stay as deep within her as he could, hardly withdrawing before he delved back into her. She wrapped a leg around his lower back, her other around his leg, her nails digging into his back as she moaned his name.

            As her moans became louder, he started jerking his hips into hers with more intensity, pulling himself out further before he sheathed himself within her once more. Each time he withdrew it created an ache within her until she whimpered, only to let out a soft cry as soon as he drove deep and filled her once more.

            He was still watching her face, his eyes wandering over her, taking in her reactions, looking like a man seeing the sublime face of the Maker, unable to look away. She watched his just as greedily when she could keep her eyes open, when they weren’t rolling back in her head when he hit all the spots that made her cry prayers to him and the Maker.

            He was worshipping her with his body, one hand wandering over every inch of her he could reach, the other still twisted into her hair. He finally lowered his face to hers and used his lips to devour hers, moving hungrily against her mouth until her lips throbbed and positively ached from his kiss. He increased the intensity of every bit of his attention until she was almost sobbing with pleasure, crying his name against his lips as he continued to steal her breaths with his mouth.

            Cullen lifted his head when he could tell she was on the edge, and he watched her face as she fell apart. His name was pouring from her throat again and again, her hips rolling in an uneven rhythm against his as her limbs quaked and her body shuddered violently. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes as she was overwhelmed with the sheer ecstasy of her release.

            He groaned her name and his thrusts took up their own sporadic rhythm as he finished, his hot release pooling deep within her. He collapsed on top of her, burying his face against her neck, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

            “Evelyn,” he whispered against her throat, his breath tickling the spot where her pulse was racing as she tried to recover from her release. “I’ll never let anything take you from me again.”

 

* * *

 

            Cullen ran his tongue down the valley between her breasts and heard her give a sharp intake of breath. He smiled against her skin, one of his hands sliding down her side. He noticed how prominent her ribs were, his fingers able to count them as he caressed her.

            “Evelyn, love, you let yourself stop eating, I can tell,” he murmured and pressed kisses to her breasts.

            “I didn’t have anyone to sneak me sweet rolls anymore,” she teased lightly, but he could tell from the tone of her voice that there was sadness beneath the joke.

            He shook his head and continued nipping and sucking the skin underneath her breasts, enjoying the soft flesh against his mouth. “You do now,” he told her. “I’ll sneak you all the treats I need to, I’ll sit with you and make sure your nerves don’t keep you from taking care of yourself.”

            He heard her give a wistful sigh. “I’d believe you about my nerves if I didn’t have this _mark_ on my hand, if people weren’t calling me the ‘Herald of Andraste.’”

            He could hear the frustration in her voice, the hints of trepidation and fear. He raised his face from where he had been running his tongue under the round breast he held and met her gaze. “We’ll get through this, love,” he assured her softly.

            She stared at him, uncertainty etched on her face. “Do you think Andraste sent me?”

            He thought carefully, trying to determine what he thought. If anything, he certainly believed that all of his prayers for her to be returned to him had been answered. If that meant that Andraste had helped her walk out of the Fade, he was willing to accept it. “I think you could have been.”

            She pursed her lips and looked at him for a moment. “Do you think we can fix all of this?”

            “I think we should try,” he answered firmly.

            She smiled. “Of course you do,” she said, but he could tell she meant it fondly. “Thrask told me stories about Kirkwall. He told me what you tried to do for the mages, what you did at the end.”

            He swirled his tongue over her nipple, not responding for a moment. She moaned and he chuckled. “I’m certain he exaggerated on my behalf.”

            “Mmm, no, I could tell he was telling me the truth,” she giggled. “He thinks very highly of you.”

            “We went through a lot together,” Cullen murmured, and resumed his tongue’s trail for a moment. “What happened at Ostwick, Evelyn?”

            She heaved a sigh. “It rebelled.”

            He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

            “I – I missed most of what was going on, leading up to it,” she confessed softly. “When Kirkwall happened, they – they got the wrong report. Gabrielle told me you were dead.”

            He stared at her and saw her eyes sparkle as if with tears. “Evelyn, I – I can’t imagine.”

            “She didn’t tell me you were alive when she found out,” she continued, her voice low and shaky. “I thought you were dead for months.”

            Cullen finally pulled himself further up her body until he could press his lips to hers, and he twisted his mouth against hers in a fierce kiss. Her hands reached up and held his cheeks, encouraging the kiss to continue, as if she couldn’t stand the thought of him pulling away from her. He moved his lips against hers reassuringly, trying to silently tell her he wasn’t going anywhere.

            After several long minutes had passed she finally pulled her head back and stared up into his eyes, her clear eyes still sparkling.

            “How did you find out I was alive?” he asked quietly.

            A sad look came upon her face, and her lips tightened for a moment. She was trying not to cry, he remembered the look. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

            “She – she told me before she died,” she whispered. “I found her dying, and she confessed. She gave me the key to the phylacteries, and told me to take mine and run, to go find you.”

            “The key to the phylac -” he cut off his thought and stared at her, remembering the reports that came out of Ostwick. “Evelyn, the – the phylacteries – did you destroy them?”

            Something changed in her eyes, a slightly hardened look, a resoluteness he had never seen before. “Yes, I did,” she answered, her tone smooth and firm.

            He held her gaze, feeling surprised at her actions. The destruction of the phylacteries had led to some of the chaos in the areas surrounding Ostwick, some of the brutal responses from the Templars in retaliation. “Why?” he finally asked, frowning sharply.

            She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “Freedom,” she answered at last.

            He continued frowning, feeling conflicted. He didn’t _completely_ disagree with her actions, but there was definitely a large part of him that didn’t think it had been the right decision.

            Evelyn was still watching him, and after a moment she raised an eyebrow. “Do you disapprove? You’re taking an awfully long time to say anything, love.”

            “I’m not sure,” he sighed. “It – it wasn’t…yes, Evelyn. I don’t think I agree.”

            She still had that curious look in her eyes. “What’s done is done, I can’t take it back now,” she told him. “And I stand by it.”

            Cullen looked over her face, and he could tell that under the strength she was showing there was a slight apprehension, like she was bracing for harsh words, for a fight. He may not agree, but he certainly wasn’t going to berate her for it. He vaguely began to wonder what had happened to her at the Circle in the years he was gone that made her expect that reaction, especially from him.

            “You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

            Her lips twitched a little but she gave a small nod. “There’s more – the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander, they – they were in -”

            “Love,” he finished for her, nodding. He had felt fairly certain he had figured that out, as he continued to mull over his conversation with Halwell the night before he left, and how both of their doors had been unguarded.

            “How did you know?” she raised her eyebrows, surprised.

            “Something Halwell said to me, the night we got caught,” he answered. “And both of our doors were intentionally left unguarded.”

            “I thought so,” she murmured.

            “They gave us a chance to say goodbye,” he mused sadly.

            “She apologized. She said it was one of the worst things she’d ever done, keeping us apart,” Evelyn sighed. “Halwell said it broke her heart to do it, but that they were trying to protect us.”

            “I suppose that’s…nice to hear, but it doesn’t change what happened,” he said, almost bitterly.

            She reached up with a hand and stroked his cheek. “Love, what matters is now,” she smiled softly at him. “We’re together again.”

            “You’re right,” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, followed by another, and another. He finally raised his face and frowned at her. “You still haven’t told me how you escaped though.”

            “I – I just did,” she shrugged slightly. “I was with Clemence, and when the explosion happened we just ran. I found the other Tranquil, and I -”

            She trailed off suddenly, an odd look coming across her face as she seemed to remember something. She looked up at him, a glimmer of fear evident in her eyes, and something akin to shame.

            “Cullen, I think – I think I may have killed…I think I may have killed Grayson,” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

            He raised his eyebrows as he took in her words, but somehow he found no regret or remorse at the man’s passing. Instead, he only cared about the haunted look in her eyes, hinting at the torment she felt at the memory. “What happened?”

            “He…he tried to get me to flee with him, after everything he had done,” she shook her head. “After – after you went away, he told everyone. He told everyone every detail of that night. I could tell, he’d been watching for a while, before he interrupted us. Cullen, he told them all that it looked like you were f-forcing me.”

            Cullen felt his stomach lurch, and he saw tears spring into her eyes. He leaned forward and pressed tender kisses to her forehead.

            “For months, everyone called me whore, and they asked me how you – how you took me, they asked me if they could have a go, too.” Tears were sliding down her cheeks and he hurriedly kissed them away. “They made it sound so awful, they cheapened it, they made it dirty, wrong -”

            “It wasn’t, you and I know that,” he murmured, and he pressed more hurried kisses to her face and lips.

            “I know, but it was terrible,” she admitted. “I just ignored them, but the words stung, they cut me to the core after I’d had to give you up.”

            “So – why did he think you would flee with him?” Cullen frowned.

            “I’m not certain,” she shrugged. “But he got mad when I wouldn’t, I thought he was going to attack me, and I – I threw him back against a wall with my magic. I think I must have cracked his skull, or broken his back…he wasn’t moving, I couldn’t tell if he was breathing.”

            “Good riddance,” Cullen gritted out despite himself, but he saw another tear slide down her cheek.

            “Cullen, I don’t think it was all self-defense,” she confessed. “I hated him. I wanted to hurt him. I’ve never felt that before, I never thought I could do something like that.”

             Cullen pressed a firm kiss to her lips. “He hurt you, so many times. It was instinct to think he was going to hurt you again, and react,” he assured her. “You don’t need to worry yourself about that, Evelyn. For all you know he meant to kill you.”

            She stared up at him for a moment, and then gave a jerky nod. “You’re right, I suppose.”

            He realized how many voices he could hear outside the walls of the hut, suddenly, and glanced around the room. The sun was up, now, the room no longer filled with pre-dawn glow. He would need to head to the training grounds soon, and then a war council. Cassandra had wanted to see the Herald – Evelyn – as soon as she woke up, but Cullen hadn’t let her get out of bed yet. They still had so much to catch up on, but the day was starting and he heaved a sigh.

            He looked down at her and saw her still looking at him with trepidation, with the weight of everything they had been discussing, everything they had been confessing and sharing heavy on her. They both had so many burdens now. He remembered back to how naïve, how innocent they had both been, stealing tender kisses in the courtyard and sneaking looks of love across rooms.

            Now, they both looked world-weary, weighed down.

            He considered for a moment, contemplating. But with a crooked grin at the sight of her lying beneath him, he decided the Inquisition could manage without their Commander for another hour.


	17. The Inquisition of Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sorry for a _very_ long note, but I have so many things to say right now*
> 
> I started writing this one night instead of sleeping, and because it was an idea kicking around in my head just begging to get out. I had no idea it would turn into this, or have this response, or even really what I originally intended to do with it. I think I thought it was just going to be Cullen/Evelyn smut at Ostwick, and then it turned into so, so much more.  
> I love you all so much for reading this, for your kind words, and how invested you've gotten in this story. What was going to be a short couple chapter story has evolved into "oh god how have I written that many words for this already?" And honestly, I've loved writing this too much to stop.  
> So moving forward, I think I am actually going to do this Cullen/Evelyn pairing moving through DAI. I want to get back into my other fics too though so I may slow down on this one a bit. Or not, considering how compulsive writing for it has been, haha. I'll most likely do time jumps/canon glosses and just focus on how this OTP is different considering their history as we progress through Inquisition. This AU has changed too much already for DAI to progress the same, I think, so I can't skip ahead too much like I originally intended when I decided to tie into DAI. However, I don't need another canon - novelization, 95+ chapter project like EotS has been. Not at the moment, at least.  
> Yes, there will be a happy ending. Yes, there will be plenty of smut. Yes, there will be fluff. Yes, there will be angst, because I apparently love torturing you all. But mostly, there will be more to this story now that they're back together and taking on Thedas' problems as a team. Hooray, right?  
> If you feel like it/haven't already, find me on Tumblr (LarasLandLockedBlues) and/or bug me here in the comments. I really enjoy speaking with all of you about this story, others I'm working on, the fandoms I write about, writing in general, or pretty much anything.
> 
> Again, sorry for the atrociously long author's note, but just wanted to say thank you, _much love_ , and this story will continue  <3  
> xx,  
> L

            “Wait – love, wait, wait,” he was chuckling, his mouth in a crooked grin, and he tugged her back from the door by her hand. “One more kiss, please – I have so many years of not kissing you to make up for.”

            Evelyn giggled and let him pull her back into his arms, resting her hands against the fur on his new mantle. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him as he twisted his mouth against hers in a sweetly passionate kiss. Once he had left her breathless, he raised his head and smiled down at her.

            “You need to get to your duties, love,” she murmured, but she smiled back at him, happy beyond measure.

            “I need to get you something to eat, first,” he told her with a small sigh. “Come along, love.”

            He gave her one last squeeze and finally turned to leave the cottage.

            Evelyn’s legs were still trembling as she followed him out the door, unsteady on her feet after the way they had spent the last hour. Well, the last few hours, ever since she’d awoken in his arms after all these years apart. Every time he had taken her, it had been with an intensity that spoke of just how desperately he had missed her, how fervently he still loved her.

            Her knees were still weak, her sex throbbing and slightly sore as they made their way through Haven. She walked beside him, and though they didn’t hold hands, it felt wonderful and strange to her to be able to walk side-by-side with him so openly. All those years ago, having to hide, barely able to speak to each other when anyone else was around – it felt almost brazen and daring in comparison. She almost expected someone to say something, to punish them or mock them.

            Instead, she noticed an odd reverence and curiosity in the eyes of everyone they passed. Where she had expected stares of disgust, she saw looks of awe and worship. And they were looking at her, not him.

            She shook her head and averted her gaze, instead letting him guide her to the kitchens for some food. He gathered a small plate for her, and she sat watching him as the fond memories his actions conjured played through her mind. He handed it to her and she took it gratefully, giving him a smile full of wistful remembrance. Cullen returned the look and gave her a tiny wink.

            He watched her take a few bites with the same intent look he used to get on his face when he watched her eat the sweet rolls he had snuck her. After a few moments he sighed. “As much as I’d like to watch you finish eating, I need to begin my duties for the day,” he told her. “Cassandra wanted to see you when you woke up, you’ll most likely find her in the Chantry when you’re done here.”

            She nodded and smiled at him, finishing chewing a bite of bread before she leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. It was the same corner she had always kissed, the same corner that tugged up when he smiled at her – only now, she was kissing his scar when she did it. Somehow, the new addition made her smile, and when she looked at him she saw that he was smiling too.

            “Until later, dearest,” he murmured, and he turned to leave the kitchens.

            Evelyn watched him go with a soft smile on her face, thinking fondly of their morning together as she finished eating. When she was done she left the kitchens as well, intending to make her way to the Chantry. She looked around the village, taking in the sights of Haven for the first time since Cassandra had escorted her through to the Breach. She tried to avoid the stares of everyone as she passed, still noticing the curious awe she was regarded with as she passed, the soft whispers that followed her everywhere. Strangely, the whispers didn’t sound menacing for the first time in her life, and it was slightly unsettling to her.

            “Evelyn!” she heard a deep voice call from behind her, and she saw Thrask hurrying forward. “Maker – I was so worried, I didn’t know -”

            “Thrask!” she cried happily, realizing she hadn’t known what had become of him or her friends in the chaos. “Is everyone all right? What happened?”

            “We’re all fine,” he assured her. “Your friends have been put to work helping the alchemists and enchanters. They seem happy to be useful again. The Inquisition is glad to have their skills, too. Clemence, especially, is a wonderful alchemist.”

            “Yes, he is,” Evelyn smiled. “Did you and Rylen get involved in the fighting?”

            “We did what we could, but we’d only just arrived,” he was still looking over her face, concerned. “Evelyn, I never saw that it was you – I thought you had died. I was so worried, but I didn’t realize…are you all right?”

            She sighed and looked down at her left palm, flexing her hand as she took in the appearance of the green gash that was across it. “I’m fine, but I wish I remembered what happened.”

            “You don’t know?”

            “No, unfortunately,” she looked back up at him to see a worried frown etched deep in his features. “I remember arriving here with you and running to the Temple. That’s it.”

            “Have you – did you find Cullen? I haven’t seen him yet,” his voice was eager and apprehensive.

            She smiled radiantly. “Yes, we found each other.”

            The older man’s face broke into a wide grin, erasing the frown that was on it. “I’m glad to hear it, Evelyn. I know it’s – unexpected, everything else that happened, but I’m happy that at least you’re together again.”

            She giggled softly. “I am as well,” she admitted. “I think he went to the training grounds, if you wish to see him. I’m certain he’d love a chance to speak with you.”

            “I think I’ll do that, I need to see what I can do to start helping anyway,” Thrask nodded at her. “It’s wonderful to see you’re all right, Evelyn. Another time.”

            She smiled and watched as he turned and walked away to head to the front gates. She resumed her path to the Chantry, intending to finally seek out Cassandra.

            “Ah, Herald!” the Seeker called to her from her right, and Evelyn stopped and waited for the woman’s approach. “How are you feeling?”

            “I’m fine, thank you,” Evelyn replied. She felt slightly reserved around the other woman, though she knew Cullen seemed to trust her. Still, she remembered the way she had been interrogated, the suspicious way she had been treated. She kept her guard up.

            “Have you remembered anything?” Cassandra asked, frowning.

            Evelyn sighed. “No, I still only remember reaching the Temple.”

            “And might I ask – what were you doing here? You are not here representing any of the Circles, you were not sent here by anyone,” the Seeker was frowning. “Why come to the Conclave?”

            Evelyn raised an eyebrow and considered the other woman. “I came here to find Cullen, and to help my friends who escaped the Ostwick Circle with me.”

            Cassandra’s eyebrows rose. “Do you mean the group of Tranquil?”

            Evelyn nodded. “I helped get them to safety when the chaos erupted at Ostwick,” she explained. “I was hoping Cullen could help protect them, when I found him.”

            Cassandra pursed her lips and regarded her. “Perhaps I misjudged you, then. I feel I must apologize for the suspicion,” she said slowly. “We had no way of identifying you in the chaos, there were nearly riots trying to get to the room we were keeping you in. So we didn’t allow anyone in, as a precaution. And Cullen was busy fighting – if we had known you were -”

            But the Seeker trailed off. Evelyn frowned. “Had he told you about me?”

            “Yes, before I recruited him from Kirkwall I asked him about his time in Ostwick,” Cassandra answered. “He explained his situation, about what led to his departure, without giving many details about you. If he had been able to identify you after what happened at the Temple, maybe it would have helped clear matters up more quickly.”

            Evelyn considered the other woman for a moment. “It’s all right, I understand. It was only natural to suspect me, considering the circumstances.”

            The Seeker nodded. “We are having a war council in an hour, would you please join us?”

            Evelyn raised an eyebrow but then nodded. “Yes, if you’d like me to be there. I’ll – I’ll see you then.”

            Cassandra gave a curt nod and they went their separate ways. Evelyn determined to seek out Clemence and the others, to make sure they were all right and adjusting to their new environment. She still felt like they were her responsibility but they were also her friends, and she found that she missed them.

 

* * *

 

            “Cullen!” he heard from behind him, and turned from where he was watching the recruits.

            “Thrask,” he called in return, a smirk coming across his face. “Nice to see you’re still alive and well.”

            The older man reached him and they clasped forearms briefly, clapping each other on the shoulder with their other hand as they did.

            “It’s good to see you,” Thrask greeted him. “I just saw Evelyn, she told me I could find you out here.”

            Cullen didn’t bother trying to hide the beaming smile that came across his face as he turned to look over the trainees once more. The other man let out a bark of laughter beside him.

            “It’s nice to see you smile, for a change,” he told Cullen.

            “She told me you brought her here,” Cullen said, and he turned to look at his friend once more. “Thank you, Thrask. I – I’m not sure I can repay you.”

            “There’s no need. Consider it payback for the Wounded Coast, and fixing my mistake there that day.”

            Cullen chuckled. “All right then, we’re even.”

            “So, she’s – ah – the Herald of Andraste?” Thrask frowned at him, folding his arms in front of his chest.

            “Yes, so it would seem,” Cullen murmured.

            “Is she all right?”

            “It’s – been a shock, I can tell. But she’s managing.”

            “She’s resilient, I’ll give her that,” Thrask mused. “Making her way from Ostwick with a group of Tranquil in tow, avoiding detection while traveling with a pirate… Has she told you how she spent her time on the ship?”

            “A pirate?” Cullen frowned. They hadn’t gotten that far in their time reconnecting. They kept getting distracted by their nearness, interrupting their time telling stories with lovemaking.

            “Yes, she came here with one of Hawke’s friends – Isabela, do you remember her?”

            Cullen raised his eyebrows as far as they would go. “We hadn’t gotten that far yet, she only told me about escaping the Circle in the chaos.”

            Thrask chuckled, a knowing, teasing twinkle in his eyes, as if he knew why they hadn’t made it that far in their story swapping. “It’s a fascinating story, you should ask her to tell it to you. Later, of course. There’s plenty of time for talking later.”

            Cullen felt his cheeks heat slightly, but he smiled. He was so happy she was near again, so happy with how he had spent the morning, that he found himself only slightly embarrassed by his friend’s good-natured teasing.

            “How have you been feeling, by the way?” Thrask asked after several moments.

            “I’m fine,” Cullen said shortly.

            In truth, despite having Evelyn back, he was struggling. His head was throbbing, his hands shaking, an occasional pain running through his veins as if daggers had managed to find their way under his skin. He was lucky he had been so exhausted the last two nights, and so happy to have her back in his arms that his nightmares hadn’t made an appearance. He hadn’t realized his nightmares had been held back some in intensity due to the lyrium, and they were making a full resurgence now.

            “Did you finish weaning yourself off of it?” Thrask asked with a frown.

            “Yes, before I left Kirkwall,” Cullen answered, staring out over the recruits, making certain no one else was around to hear. He was by no means ashamed, but he didn’t feel like having everyone know what he was going through.

            “Good, good,” Thrask murmured. “Well, hopefully things continue to improve. In the meantime, what can Rylen and I do?”

            Cullen gave a small smile to his friend. “At present, you could oversee the training for me. There’s a war council soon, and I need to review some reports first.”

            Thrask nodded. “I can handle that. I’ll get Rylen over here as well, see if we can both teach these soft boys how to block with a shield properly.”

            Cullen chuckled and clapped his friend on the shoulder before he turned and walked away. The recruits were in good hands.

            He walked through the village, making his way to the tent he had vacated two nights ago to sleep in the cottage with her after the Breach. He hadn’t taken the time to move his things over yet, though. He knew that he would, he knew that now that she was here, there was no need for this tent. There was no need to sleep alone, not ever again.

            Grabbing the reports he needed, he began the trek to the Chantry, and was pleasantly surprised to see Evelyn standing near a gathering of tents, speaking with a young man wearing Circle robes. He smiled and walked forward, intending to see her before the war council.

            “Evelyn,” he greeted her, and she and the young man turned. Cullen’s eyes widened when he recognized him – he was one of the Tranquil from Ostwick. “Clemence, it’s nice to see you, again.”

            “Hello, Knight-Captain,” the Tranquil replied.

            “Oh, no, Clemence, that’s not his title anymore,” Evelyn corrected softly.

            “You can call me Cullen, it’s all right,” he gave the young man a smile.

            Clemence nodded vaguely. “As you wish, Cullen.”

            “I was just asking Clemence how he and the other Tranquil from Ostwick are faring, here,” Evelyn informed him with a small smile. “It seems your forces have already put them to good use, making healing poultices and working with the few enchanters you already had.”

            Cullen nodded, pleased at the news. More alchemists and enchanters was certainly an advantage. “Excellent. And do you like it here?”

            “I like feeling useful, again. It is good to work,” Clemence replied mildly.

            “I’m glad, then,” Cullen agreed, trying to fight the slight frown that was threatening to come across his face. He always forgot how disquieting the Tranquil could be; every time he was faced with one it made him think of Evelyn, and his deepest fear that that could have been her. “I hope everyone has been treating you well?”

            Clemence nodded. “Yes, Cullen. They have been grateful for our assistance. It is nice to be helpful.”

            Cullen cleared his throat lightly. “Good, good,” he turned to Evelyn, but he saw that she was looking around them as if considering something. “Evelyn, I have a war council -”

            “I know, so do I,” she turned back to him with a small shrug. “Cassandra wants me there.”

            “Oh,” he remarked, raising his eyebrows. “Well, then, shall we?”

            She nodded and looked back to Clemence. “I’m glad you’re settled in, Clemence. I’ll see you later.”

            “Until then, Evelyn,” the Tranquil said, and he began to walk away to tend to his duties.

            Cullen watched him go for a second and then gestured for Evelyn to lead the way. They fell into step together and continued on their way to the Chantry. “What did Cassandra say?”

            “She – she apologized, actually,” Evelyn told him. “She said if she’d known, if you’d been able to identify me, maybe they wouldn’t have been so suspicious.”

            “That’s – interesting,” Cullen admitted. “I would have thought that would make her more suspicious. She seemed to almost disapprove of what happened in Ostwick.”

            “If it was truly an issue, if it really made her think that poorly of you, do you think she would have asked you to take on the role of Commander?” she pointed out softly.

            He thought it over for a moment. “That’s a good point.”

            Evelyn smiled at him before looking around the village. “Everyone keeps staring at me,” she said quietly.

            He raised his gaze and looked around them, taking in the stares of reverence and worship that were following Evelyn. “They believe you were sent by the Maker,” he said. “We needed a savior, and we got one.”

            He looked back down at her and saw her looking at him with an odd look on her face. “You sound like you think that too.”

            Cullen gave her a crooked grin. “Well, you were the answer to my prayers – but mine were a different set of prayers.”

            She raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise and smiled at him.

            They were almost to the Chantry when a sudden shout sounded behind them.

            “Murderer! What is she doing out? She needs to be sent to Val Royeaux for trial!”

            Cullen turned with a scowl on his face and saw Chancellor Roderick charging toward them, Cassandra trailing him by only a few paces.

            “Who -” Evelyn began, looking up to Cullen in confusion.

            “Chancellor Roderick, that is enough,” Cassandra said as the pair of them stopped before Cullen and Evelyn.

            “I demand that this _apostate_ ” he positively spat the word “be locked up until we can send her to stand trial for the death of the Divine and all of the others who were killed at the Conclave.”

            “But I didn’t -” Evelyn began.

            “We will do no such thing,” Cullen interrupted, stepping before Evelyn to tower over the Chancellor. “She is innocent, and we will not offer her up to the Chantry as a _scapegoat_ to appease bureaucrats.”

            Roderick’s eyes widened as he took in the scowl on Cullen’s face, and the dangerously low tone of his voice. The Chancellor looked at him for a moment and then behind him at Evelyn, a shrewd look coming upon his face. “I thought I heard a rumor that you two were lovers,” he sneered. “I didn’t realize it would mean you would put your love for this _apostate_ above justice for the Divine, Knight-Commander -”

            “That is _not_ my title any longer, and I will _not_ let you harm an innocent,” Cullen growled, and took a step forward. The shorter man gulped slightly and stepped back, his courage suddenly flagging at the sight of the danger in the Commander’s eyes. “Understood?”

            Chancellor Roderick stared at him for a moment before he cleared his throat and took several steps back. “The people still believe her to be guil -”

            “The people believe her to be the Herald of Andraste, Chancellor,” Cassandra cut in. “Or had you not heard that?”

            “ _Blasphemy_ ,” the Chancellor hissed, though his voice had a slight tremor.

            “Perhaps,” a new voice chimed in, and Cullen looked over his shoulder to see Leliana approaching. “In the meantime, _we_ are actually trying to do something. The Chantry will be wasting months fighting over who will be the next Divine. Now is the time for action.”

            “What are you saying?” Roderick turned his beady eyes on the spymaster suspiciously.

            “The Inquisition will be able to achieve that which the Chantry cannot,” Cassandra declared, stepping forward. She caught Cullen’s eye, and then Leliana’s, giving each a curt nod.

            “The Inquisition?” the Chancellor sounded astonished. “You can’t mean -”

            “We do,” Leliana said.

            “Yes. By holy edict from Divine Justinia, I now declare the Inquisition of old reborn,” Cassandra said.

            Roderick’s eyes widened further, and for a moment he simply spluttered incoherently. Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched away.

            “The Inquisition?” Evelyn asked softly, and Cullen turned from where he was standing before her, from where he had been protecting her from the hateful glare of the Chantry cleric.

            “Yes,” he answered, but he saw she was still frowning.

            “A chance to restore order,” Leliana chimed in, giving Evelyn a thorough once over as she considered her.

            “Will you join us?” the Seeker was looking at Evelyn, almost eagerly awaiting her answer.

            Evelyn looked at the Seeker but then caught Cullen’s eye. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before she nodded. It took her hardly any time at all before she agreed, “Yes, I will.”      

 

* * *

 

            It had been a long day, much longer than she had expected it to be.

            She was back in the small cottage that she had awoken in after she had tried to close the Breach, and she was stripping out of her armor with a sigh of relief. It felt like ages since she and Cullen had been tangled up in the bed together that morning, getting reacquainted with the taste and feel of one another. Her mind was racing, and as much as she wanted to simply focus on her thoughts of him, she was instead thinking over everything that had happened in the Chantry.

            The Inquisition.

            She knew that this was what Cullen had been preparing for, that he had been readying himself to take command of the Inquisition’s forces, should it come to fruition. She had never expected to join, though, and she had certainly never expected to have such a focal role in it.

            She had come to Haven to be with him. She had simply wanted her love, she had wanted to feel whole again, to make her own choices in life now that she was free of the Circle. It was the same determination that had led her to destroy the phylacteries before she fled. Now, instead, she had once again had decisions made for her – beginning with the mark that had been branded into her left hand.

            It was this mark, and not actually her, that she knew the Inquisition needed.

            They had been receiving reports of rifts from all over Thedas, and since she seemed to be the only one who could close them, they were determined to try to make use of her. She sighed a little to herself as she hung her armor over the chair in the room, standing in the middle of the room in only her smallclothes. She put her hands on her hips and rolled her head on her shoulders, trying to loosen her neck and alleviate the tension she felt in her body.

            It had been a very long day.

            She wondered if Cullen would join her, if he would share the cottage with her at night to sleep. He was still going over reports, incredibly busy now that the Inquisition had officially been declared. She had finally had to leave him in the war room when she could hardly keep herself awake as she listened to he, Cassandra, and Leliana make plans. He had noticed how tired she was and insisted she head to bed, knowing she was still recovering from her attempts at the Breach. At first she had resisted his urging, but after yawning for the tenth time she had finally conceded and left to seek out her bed.

            Evelyn stretched lightly, still wanting to stay awake and wait to see if Cullen joined her, but her eyes began to droop as she undid her long braid before she stripped out of her smallclothes. She heaved a sigh and climbed into bed nude, pulling the heavy blankets over herself.

            As soon as she snuggled into the cocoon of blankets, she noticed that the pillows smelled like him; the crisp, earthy scent filling her nostrils. It was tangled with a salty smell, and she realized it was tangled with the scent of sweat and sex; the evidence of the intense passionate hours of that morning permeating the bed.

            She smiled to herself and buried her nose into the pillows, inhaling deeply until her senses felt overwhelmed with his presence, even though he wasn’t there at the moment.

            It was like this that she felt herself drift off to sleep, slipping peacefully into slumber.

            She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she was awoken by a loud _thump_ and a hushed, “Maker’s breath -”

            She sat up and tried to see through the darkness. “Cullen?” she asked tentatively.

            “Yes, love, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he murmured. He managed to stumble his way through the darkness to the bed and lean down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “I didn’t want to light a candle, and instead I hit my shin on the bed.”

            She giggled. “You can light a candle, it’s all right. And if you bring your leg over here, I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

            He chuckled. “Give me a few minutes to get out of my armor and I’ll take you up on that,” he told her, and she could hear the suggestion in his voice.

            Her heart sped up, no longer feeling tired as she bit her lip in anticipation of the moment he joined her in the bed. She could hear him getting out of his armor, setting each piece carefully on the desk or floor after he removed it.

            “I need to remember to bring my armor stand in here,” he muttered. “I meant to do that this evening, but we got so busy…”

            He was talking to himself, but his words made her heart skip a beat. “Does that mean you’re staying here?”

            “Why wouldn’t I?” he chuckled softly. “If I could, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight at all. This is where I belong, with you.”

            She sighed contentedly. “How many more pieces of armor do you have, love? Hurry up,” she teased lightly.

            He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight, and he began to pull off his boots. “Patience, love,” he gently chided her.

            She smirked and got onto her knees, shuffling toward him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her legs parted and resting on either side of his hips. She leaned over his shoulder and pressed kisses to his cheek, her fingers lightly tracing his collar bone and up his neck. She dragged a nail through his stubble, the prickling, rough sound it made as she did so incredibly pleasing to the ear.

            “You need to shave, love,” she whispered into his ear, and took his earlobe gently between her teeth. “You’re getting positively shaggy.”

            He let out a soft groan and paused for a moment, holding the boot he had just removed loosely in his hand. “If you keep distracting me, it’ll take longer to get out of my armor.”

            She giggled and released him, sitting back on her heels while she waited for him to finish removing his boots. He was stripped down to his breeches, and he tossed his last boot to the floor before he turned with a growl and tackled her back onto the bed. She gave a soft, playful shriek, accompanied by a trickle of carefree laughter.

            Cullen stared down into her eyes, his face close to hers in the darkness of the room. She could still make out the look in his amber eyes in the meager lighting. It was pure lust, pure wonder – pure love.

            He ran a hand down her side but stopped by her ribs. He hesitated for only a moment before he suddenly squeezed and ran his fingers over her ribcage, a mischievous smile on his face. She shrieked, her body jerking as she laughed and pushed playfully at his chest.

            “Stop – stop, Cullen,” she wheezed, laughing as she continued trying to pull away from his tickling touch. “Maker – mercy, please – that – that tickles!”

            He was chuckling, a deep rumbling sound as he stared down at her convulsing under his touch, thoroughly amused. “I just can’t get enough of your laugh, Evelyn,” he finally murmured as he stopped his tickling and instead leaned over her. His eyes had taken on a sudden intensity. “I remember how you used to smile and giggle for me, when I used to make you breathless with my attention…”

            Her giggles quickly turned into whimpers as his hands suddenly began to move more purposefully over her, no longer aiming to tickle but instead to please. He caressed her breasts in turn, focusing on pinching and twirling one hard nipple between his fingers before he slid his hand to the other. He was eagerly watching her face, his crooked smile incredibly seductive as he took in the sight of her moaning beneath him.

            Cullen sat up and undid his breeches, pushing them down and throwing them off the bed as quickly as he could. He positioned himself on his side and wrapped an arm around her to slide her to him. He pressed himself to her side and pulled one of her thighs over his hips. Her legs spread like this, he slid a hand between them and began to explore the heat and wet excitement he found there.

            “Evelyn,” he whispered in her ear, his voice husky, gravelly with his need. It made shivers run up and down her spine as she felt herself excited further, just by his tone. “You’re still always so ready for me – you’re so wet, and I’ve barely touched you.”

            She giggled softly. “I’m always thinking about you,” she murmured, her voice breathless and quiet.

            “After all these years, I still just have to look your way and you’re ready for me,” he teased softly. “I remember – you used to be dripping by the time you got to my room, by the time we were finally together for the night.”

            “Yes, always,” she breathed. “Cullen please – I want you.”

            He chuckled softly and nipped at her earlobe before he leaned down and ran his mouth along her jaw, dragging his tongue along the column of her throat. She was still moaning as he stroked her with his fingers, but she felt him searching gently with his hard length and she eagerly shifted her hips to meet him. She helped guide him to her opening and he pushed himself in with a few thrusts until he was deep inside her.

            “Evelyn – Maker’s breath, I thought about this all day,” he moaned. He reached down a hand and helped hold her thigh over his, keeping her legs parted as he began thrusting into her. He began gently but soon they were both panting and moving against each other with increasing eagerness, until the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of  him pushing into her wet heat echoed through the room, accompanied by her mewls and his groans.

            It wasn’t long before she reached down with a hand and found her excited pearl, pressing a finger against it and lightly stroking it to help push herself to the edge. He groaned as he felt her clench slightly around him, and he let go of her thigh and instead cupped her cheek, pulling her face to the side so that he could press kisses to her lips. It was a slightly awkward angle, but in their haste and need neither of them cared.

            Their teeth clicked in their eagerness, their lips made more contact with the corners of each other’s mouths than their lips as they continued their rapid thrusts against each other. Soon she broke away from his kiss with a cry, feeling close to coming undone. “Cul-Cullen,” she moaned. “ _Mmm_ , darling – I -”

            But she didn’t finish what she was saying, her release finding her, and she gave a gasp and a loud cry, jerking herself unevenly against him as he thrust harder into her for a moment until he groaned just as loudly. She felt him fill her, pushing as deep as he could as he finished with her.

            Their bodies slowed in their movements and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him. He didn’t pull himself from her, instead he curled his knees up under hers as if trying to keep himself within her.

            “You’re always so perfect,” he murmured. He pressed kisses to the back of her neck and her hair, one hand gently cupping a breast and holding it. He was settling in for sleep, she could tell.

            She giggled softly to herself and nestled back against him, letting exhaustion consume her with her lover still inside her, wrapped around her as if they were one.


	18. Never Again, Not Now

            Something was shaking her, something tightening around her roughly and jostling her into consciousness. Cries and deep pleas reached her ears; whoever it was, they sounded terrified, as if their life depended on their desperate cries for help.

            Evelyn opened her eyes and looked around, startled, trying to see through the darkness. Arms were wrapped around her, and they were trembling, jerking – thrashing and clenching her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe. She reached up with a hand to tug at the arm across her chest, and once it was loosened she rolled onto her side to look behind her.

            Cullen was shuddering and crying out, his brows furrowed but his eyes shut tight.

            It took her only a moment to realize he had to be trapped in a night terror.

            “Cullen,” she said firmly, leaning over him and trying to shake his shoulder gently. He didn’t seem to respond, and she shook him more firmly. “Cullen, wake up, love – you’re dreaming.”

            “No – no, leave me,” he cried, and one of his arms lashed out and swung near her.

            Instinctively she yelped and threw herself back on the bed, one hand up and ready to conjure a barrier between them if she needed to. He was still lashing out with his arm, still trapped in his terror.

            “Cullen!” she yelled, reaching out and trying to stay one of his flailing arms. “Cullen _wake up_!”

            His eyes finally flew open and he sat up with a gasp, looking around wildly and scooting back on the bed, pushing away from her. She released his arm and realized she was breathing heavily from her nerves and her efforts to keep him from accidentally striking her.

            “Where – what -” he was still looking around, trying to adjust to the darkness and his abrupt consciousness.

            “Cullen, are you all right?” she asked softly. “You’re here – you’re here with me, it was just a dream.”    

            He took a moment to look at her, as if taking in her presence. “Ev – Evelyn?” he whispered. “Maker’s breath, Evelyn, I’m – I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”

            “No, no it’s fine,” she assured him quickly as she sat up. “Are you all right?”

            He swallowed hard and sat forward, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them, hanging his head. It almost looked like shame, like he was embarrassed by what had happened.

            In their prior years together, he had had nightmares occasionally when they slept for a few hours beside each other. But he usually just jumped awake, and then settled himself more closely about her before he sought slumber once more.

            She had never seen him this deep in a night terror before.

            “Cullen?” she asked again, tentatively.

            “Evelyn, there’s – there’s something I need to tell you,” he sighed, sounding resigned and apprehensive.

            Her heart sped up a little as she regarded him, concerned at his tone and the look on his face. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

            “I – I’m no longer a Templar,” he said softly. He was watching her intently for her reaction.

            She frowned slightly. “Yes, Thrask mentioned that you had given up the Order for your role as Commander.”

            “I didn’t just give up the Order, Evelyn,” he told her, his voice strained. “I’m – I’m no longer taking lyrium.”

            “What?” she breathed, her eyes wide.

            “I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t be a part of that life,” he explained quietly. “After everything that happened, after Kinloch, after what happened with you, and Kirkwall…Evelyn, I refuse to be chained to that life any longer.”

            A multitude of emotions ran through her as she looked into his amber eyes. He was looking at her so pleadingly, begging for understanding, for assurances. She supported him, she knew she had never respected any decision more. It was the same reason she had destroyed the phylacteries – though she knew he could never see it that way, could never fully understand that her phylactery had been her leash, her cage. She was proud of him, she was happy to know that he had seen the flaws and wrongs of the Order.

            The warning given to her by the First Enchanter drifted back to her, though, through her pride and happiness.

            _He won’t last without lyrium._

            “Evelyn?” he was watching her face, concerned that it was taking her so long to say something in response to his confession.

            “I – I’m proud of you, Cullen,” she began slowly. “But lyrium – love, can’t it – this could kill you.”

            She reached toward him and cupped his cheek with her hand, feeling tears spring into her eyes as she searched his face. They’d been separated, they’d been torn apart, but they had found one another again. But now, still, something could tear them apart, something could bring her happiness crashing down.

            “I have to do this, Evelyn,” he said firmly. He looked so confident, so determined. Her heart broke as she looked at his sparkling eyes.

            Evelyn swallowed hard and stared at him for another moment. She reached her other hand out to his arm and turned it so she could see the inside. His arm, which had always been covered in small bruises, small pinprick scars, small spots that were always healing from his daily habit. They had never spoken of it at Ostwick, but she had known, she could tell just by seeing his bruised arm and the way he sometimes tried to hide it from her. She saw now what she had missed before when she was reacquainting herself with his body; all of those marks were gone, his arm no longer marred or freshly healing. He had given it up long enough ago that the most recent marks were gone, and his skin looked smooth and almost _healthy_.

            When they were at Ostwick together, something in him had always looked haggard, as if he were always slightly sick or tired. She looked over his features now, taking them in and studying them more intently now that she knew what to look for.

            Besides the dark bags under his eyes, which mostly spoke of sleepless nights, the rest of him looked almost plump and ruddy. He’d lost the slightly ashen complexion, the thinness of his cheeks, no longer looking pinched or strained.

            When she’d seen him, she had marveled at how wonderful, how handsome he looked. She had thought it had been the passage of years, the fact that she had been so starved for the sight of him. She had thought that maybe he had just gotten better with age, that maybe he had grown into his looks even more, and his experiences had shaped him into the man who was now before her.

            Now as she looked at him, she realized that there was more to it. He was healthy, despite what withdrawals he must be feeling. He was no longer bound to the lyrium and its effects. His body was no longer under the dulling effect of the drug, no longer held back. The only thing that spoke of pain lurking under the surface was his eyes, but even that could have been from lack of sleep, made worse from the withdrawal. She looked over his features, taking in his golden gaze, his almost golden, flushed skin, and she sighed wistfully.

            “Are you – are you all right, Cullen?” she asked timidly.

            “I can endure,” he told her, and she could hear the resolve in his voice.

            “What can I do?” she asked. “I’ll do whatever I can, whatever you need me to so that you can succeed.”

            She stopped worrying about ‘what ifs’ and instead thought about keeping him, about staying together no matter what. She wouldn’t lose him again, and if he wanted to overcome this, she would be with him every step of the way.

            “I – I suppose, love, you could just – just stay with me,” he murmured. He finally moved toward her, seeking her body now that he had confessed what he needed to. “I’ll admit, it was a nice change to be pulled out of a nightmare, for once. I haven’t been able to pull out of them for years, but they’ve gotten worse since – since I stopped taking it.”

            “That’s curious,” she frowned, trying to discern the cause.

            He wrapped his arms around her, trying to draw her into his lap as they sat facing each other. “It’s just the nature of lyrium,” he said softly, one hand splayed on her back as he pulled her closer. “It not only granted me my powers, it – it helped me forget bad memories. Now, without it, they – they have free reign.”

            Evelyn let him pull her to him and hooked her arms under his, her hands resting on his shoulders. But she was thinking hard, trying to determine the meaning of his words. His mind seemed to have moved on from their conversation, though, and he was pulling her as close to him as he could.

            They were facing each other, her bent legs over his. He was smiling at her softly as he tried to get her to tilt her hips, his hands wandering over her and trying to excite her. He slid his mouth along her neck, gently nipping her with his teeth as he went. He buried his face at the curve of her neck and palmed one of her breasts, tugging her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

            Her mind was still wandering over their conversation until she felt him hard and ready, pressing gently against her opening. She smiled to herself, tilting her hips and scooting forward until the very tip of him was resting inside her, and he groaned and raised his head from where he had been kissing her collar bone. He took her hips in his large hands and lifted her slightly until he could thrust all the way in.

            He let out another loud groan, his eyes clenched tight as he took a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Evelyn, it’s like you were made for me,” he breathed, and a wide smile came across his face.

            She wrapped her arms around his neck as she pulled herself all the way into his lap finally. She began rocking her hips, bouncing herself on his thick cock as wantonly as she could. Every time he was within her now, she became overwhelmed with her need to make up for their years apart. She forgot their conversation, she forgot his night terrors or the danger of his withdrawal for the moment while she simply focused on finding her pleasure and giving him his.

            His hands were beneath her, helping lift her on him and bring her back down with a desperation that told her that he hadn’t fully forgotten his night terror or their conversation. She let him help direct her pace, realizing this was one of the ways she could help him, letting him seek her out to erase the pain and memories of Kinloch, and his withdrawal. He was helping move her hard and fast against him, and soon each of their movements was accented by a soft cry from her as she felt him relentlessly delving deep within her.

            “Maker – love, I’m going to – _mmm_ ,” she moaned before incoherent words and cries accompanied her release. He groaned and pulled her down roughly, burying his face against her collar bone as he finished with her.

            For several long moments they simply sat holding one another, trying to catch their breath. Evelyn ran her fingers through his slightly dampened curls and he nuzzled his face against her neck.

            “Was that just what you needed?” she finally asked with a soft giggle.

            “Yes, always,” he murmured. He pressed kisses to her shoulder. “I’m so happy to have you back, Evelyn.”

            She smiled and pressed a kiss to his hair.

            She was overjoyed to have him back, and she wasn’t going to let his withdrawal or anything else take him from her.

 

 

 

            “Clemence, do you have some time?” Evelyn asked as she approached the apothecary’s hut.

            Clemence turned to face her and nodded. “Yes, Evelyn, do you need my help?”

            “I was curious what you know about lyrium,” she began. “I know you use it for enchantments, but do you know about it beyond that?”

            “Yes, I do,” he answered simply. “What would you like to know?”

            “Do you know about the Templars and lyrium?”

            “Yes, I know from reading about it, and what the First Enchanter spoke of, as well,” he answered mildly.

            “The First Enchanter?” she frowned. “What did she say about it?”

            “I was in her study copying notes for her once, and she and the Knight-Commander were speaking about how the lyrium was making him feel. She sounded very concerned about him,” Clemence answered. “It was odd, and then the next day she had me bring her research on -”

            “The research on lyrium that I helped you carry?” Evelyn suddenly remembered, because it was the day Gabrielle told her about the Arishok’s attack on Kirkwall.

            “Yes,” he answered. “She had me help her research its effects on the mind. She wanted to find a way to make the Knight-Commander feel better, but she never told me why.”

            Evelyn felt her heart racing, eager anxiety flooding her body. “Clemence, I know you don’t have that research here with you, but – do you remember any of it?”

            “I remember all of it, Evelyn,” he answered. “Being Tranquil made my memory much better than it was before. I could answer any of your questions.”

            “Oh, Clemence!” she almost jumped for joy and hugged him. He stood still as she did, almost confused by her actions. “That’s perfect, because I need your help with someone going through withdrawal.”

            “Certainly,” he answered, still blandly watching her enthusiastic response.

 

* * *

 

            It had been a busy day spent overseeing the training with Thrask and Rylen and had passed quickly before he was required to attend a lengthy war council meeting that evening. He was distracted the entire meeting, though, by his pounding headache and curiosity at why Evelyn had shown up so late to the meeting.

            “Glad you could make it,” Cassandra had greeted her stiffly, almost sarcastically.

            “Sorry, I was busy attending to something,” was all Evelyn offered for an answer, and she folded her arms and fell silent. He noticed that she cast glances his way throughout the meeting, and he longed for a chance to ask what had kept her.

            Evelyn stood back to listen to the war council, not giving her input or commenting and instead just watching closely. She seemed incredibly surprised every time she was asked for her opinion on something, and never offered it without being prompted. It was like she didn’t think she should really be there.

            The meeting concluded finally, and he gathered his reports and notes so that he could leave.

            “How are you feeling, love?” her soft voice asked from beside him, and he glanced down to see that she had made her way to his side instead of leaving the war room.

            “I’m fine,” he lied.

            He wasn’t, but he was almost regretting sharing his burden with her. He had known he needed to tell her, since his night terrors were certain to be an issue. Before he’d had one the previous night, though, it had been hard to find the right time to tell her about his withdrawal. He knew he needed to be honest, though. He needed to tell her, especially after what she had witnessed. He had seen the pure fear and concern in her eyes.

            But he hadn’t been ready to shatter the joy they had been experiencing after their reunion with something as serious as his withdrawal. It was hard enough at the moment with the Inquisition, the mark, and her new role as the Herald of Andraste. Adding in his lyrium withdrawal was making him wonder if they would ever be able to have just a few moments of peace, time to simply enjoy one another and their love. All these years, finally reunited once more, and he still found himself wondering if or when they were going to be torn apart again.

            She raised an eyebrow slightly as she looked at him, her lips pursed slightly. He could tell she didn’t believe him, but suddenly the look of her pursed lips distracted him and he leaned down and pressed an impulsive kiss to her. She returned it tenderly, seeming only a little surprised, and she rested a hand on the fur of his mantle. After a few moments he raised his head and smiled at her.

            “Don’t think you can distract me, love,” she murmured, but she smiled. “Do you have anything else to do tonight?”

            “No, just grab my armor stand,” he returned her smile with a crooked grin. “Meet you in our bed shortly?”

            She giggled. “Yes, love.”

            They left the Chantry together and she parted ways with him, heading to their cottage alone while he made a stop by his tent. He grabbed the rest of his things and made his way across Haven to join her.

            _Our bed._

            He’d said the words so naturally, but now he was musing over them fondly and with mild surprise. The beginning of their relationship had been spent hiding what they had, having to duck into corners and sneak out in darkness. After that, any notion of their future had been essentially nonexistent. How many years had he thought he would never see her again? How many years had he spent thinking that they would never be reunited? And now his days were peppered with phrases like “our bed,” “together,” and “I love you.” If only the rest of Thedas weren’t falling apart, if only he wasn’t struggling with lyrium withdrawal, everything in life would be perfect.

            He reached their cottage and opened the door, struggling through with the armor stand and his reports. He was surprised at the sight that greeted him, and for a moment just stood in the door, thoroughly confused.

            Clemence and Evelyn were hunched over the desk, which had been set up with alchemy instruments, and they were huddled over a large tome. When she heard the door open, Evelyn turned to look up at him, and she smiled when she saw the surprised look on his face.

            “Well come in, love,” she said softly. “I’m certain you’d like to actually put that armor stand to use. Why don’t you get comfortable?”

            “Evelyn, I -” he began, but she had already gone back to her work with the Tranquil.

            He furrowed his brows but decided not to protest, since he really did just want to set his things down and get out of his armor. He set the stand in a corner of the one-roomed cottage and then set his reports on the edge of the bed. He shot the pair in the room furtive glances as he began to undo the fastenings of his armor, but he felt such relief to be getting out of the heavy pieces that he stopped worrying so much about what they were doing.

            “No, no, that might be too hard to acquire, right now,” he heard Evelyn sigh. “Maybe – this grows near here -”

            “That would be insufficient, it would not bind as well,” Clemence said softly. “In the meantime, the elfroot and spindleweed will have to do, in addition to the other draught.”

            She sighed a little again. “I suppose you’re right, Clemence,” she stood back from the table and looked up to where Cullen was hanging up the last piece of his armor. “Feeling better, now?”

            He gave a small grin. “Yes,” he replied before he walked over to stand behind her. “What are you working on, love?”

            She gave him a radiant smile and reached over to take a small vial from the table. “Here, try this.”

            He frowned and took it hesitantly, but he didn’t take a sip from it. “What -”

            “It’s for you,” she explained, still smiling at him.

            “And what is it?” he prompted her again.

            “It’s to help with your pains, I could tell you had a headache,” she gently pushed his hand a little. “And then later after we’ve – I mean, when you’re ready for sleep, we have a sleeping draught for you. It will help keep you from having any dreams.”

            “Evelyn -” he began with a heavy sigh.

            “Trust me, love,” she murmured, again gently encouraging him to drink from the small vial.

            “I tried elfroot potions when I first stopped taking the lyrium, it doesn’t work,” he sighed and lowered the vial.

            “That’s why we’re trying something else,” she shrugged. “It should help in the meantime, until Clemence and I can find a better solution. They unfortunately have diminishing returns and won’t work long term, but for now they should help ease your aches and pains.”

            “You don’t have to -”

            “Yes. I do,” she folded her arms and held his gaze. The new, resolute look of her eyes was piercing as she watched him and waited for him to take a drink from the vial. “Don't you trust me?”

            He sighed, knowing that he did. But he hated that he had to, that he had to rely on her to help him with this. She didn’t need this burden, not with everything else going on, everything else they were already facing. He saw her watching him, one eyebrow beginning to raise as she watched him continue to hesitate. He stared down at the vial and finally gave a small shrug and drank it.

            As soon as he did she smiled, and held out a hand to take the empty vial from him. She set it on the desk and turned to Clemence. “We can continue this tomorrow, but thank you for staying this late, Clemence.”

            “Of course, Evelyn,” he said and straightened. “It was nice to begin to put this research to use.”

            “I’m glad,” she escorted the Tranquil to the door and held it open for him, giving him a squeeze of his hand before he departed. She turned back around to look at Cullen once they were alone. “Any change yet?”

            His headache was slowly dissipating, the feeling like daggers under his skin lessening until it felt like a buzzing numbness instead. “A little better,” he answered softly. “Evelyn, you don’t have to – really, it’s too much. I can endure.”

            She smiled as she walked toward him. “Like I said, I do have to,” she looked up at him with an intensity in her eyes that took his breath away. “I had you taken from me once. I’ll never let it happen again, not now that we're together once more.”


	19. Desperation and Determination

            When he awoke in the morning, he took several moments to blink against the bright sunlight pouring in through the window. He didn’t remember anything – he didn’t remember falling asleep or anything overnight until that moment, when he opened his eyes. He hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night, and he couldn’t remember anything except peaceful, deep blackness. He hadn’t dreamt at all.

            He looked around and realized the bed was empty, and he sat up searching for her.

            The room was empty as well, and he frowned, wondering where she had gone. He felt so rested, he wished he’d woken up beside her so that he could wear them both out before they started their day. He was beginning to feel positively immoral with how frequently he wanted her, with how much time he spent thinking about what he wanted to do to her. After years of trying to relive and keep distant, bittersweet memories alive, though, it was too tantalizing not to do so.

            He was in the middle of his lustful musings when the door opened and she walked in carrying a tray. He noticed she was wearing a pair of breeches and the large, loose tunic that he’d thrown on the floor in the midst of their passion the previous evening. The laced-up front hung low on her front considering how small she was compared to him, and he caught sight of the tempting lily-white valley between her breasts. He’d never thought about her doing it before, but seeing her in his shirt was one of the best sights he’d ever seen.

            She saw him sitting up and smiled as she closed the door.

            “Good morning, love,” she walked over and placed the tray on the edge of the bed. It was laden with food and a cup of steaming liquid. She picked up the cup and held it out to him. “Be careful, it’s probably still incredibly hot. I accidentally boiled it, I think.”

            She giggled softly and gestured with her hand, and he realized she’d used her magic to heat it. He gave her a crooked grin and blew on the brew, taking a moment to sniff it. It smelled herbal, earthy, and fresh, almost like grass. He looked up at her with one eyebrow quirked. “What is this, dearest?”

            “Just a little something to help you through the day,” she leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Some herbs to help you stay focused, that will hopefully hold your aches at bay.”

            He sighed but didn’t say anything, remembering how firm she had been the night before. She was determined to help him, determined to make things bearable and better.

            In the midst of their lovemaking, though, she had cried, had told him she couldn’t lose him again. He remembered the look on her face and the tremor in her voice as she said it, pleading with him to help her get through everything so they could be together.

            He hadn’t known until then just how distraught she was about all of the events at the Temple, of her new role, of his new role, of the years they had been apart. He finally realized just how hard she was working to stay strong, but in the middle of their passion she suddenly couldn’t keep up the stoic wall she had erected. She had reminded him so much of the young Evelyn he had met at Ostwick, vulnerable and scared, tears pouring down her cheeks as she thought of losing him again.

            He had redoubled his efforts to comfort her, kissing and touching every inch of her he could reach, whispering words of love and longing to reassure her. He had caught her tears with his lips, drinking up the salty bitterness, wishing he could make her pain go away. Instead, he had worked to give her pleasure, hoping it could help in some measure to make her stop worrying, to make her think happier thoughts. He could tell though, when she came undone she had almost seemed desperate, and he had groaned and reassured her with his words and his body as best he could before he finished as well.

            Now he sat on the bed, blowing on the hot cup of liquid she had handed him, not showing how much he was chafing under her attention. He had decided to do this, he had decided to face the withdrawal alone.

            Then again, when he had decided that, he had thought there was a good chance she was dead, or that he would never see her again. He wondered a bit why he would fight himself so much on accepting her help, and realized a large portion of it was pride. He didn’t want her to watch him struggle. He needed to be strong, he needed to be able to be her strength with everything they were going through. Just as he had tried to be in years past.

            But he remembered her tenderness, the sweetness he had fallen in love with at Ostwick. The fact that she wanted to care for him meant she was still that young woman, she was still that young mage who had helped him even early on when she feared him. She had done so much to prove to him that mages and magic weren’t always to be feared, she had done so much to help pull him out of the abyss Kinloch had threatened to keep him in.

            She had helped shape him into the man he was now, through her tenderness and love. Through simply being there and being herself.

            He was beginning to realize that taking care of him was one of the ways she tried to show him she loved him. And really there was no need to resist her help – so long as he helped her with her burdens in return. After all, that was what together meant, wasn’t it?

            He blew on the herbal brew she’d handed him for just a few more moments before he finally took a sip. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t horrible tasting, and he almost thought he tasted a bit of sweetness in it like she had put honey and lemon in it.

            “How is it?” she asked, and he looked up to see her watching him intently.

            “It’s very good,” he said, and he smiled at her. She needed this, she needed to help him. And he needed to let her.

            “I’m glad to hear it, I was a little worried,” she giggled a little and then sat on the bed facing him, the tray in between them.

            For a few moments they simply sat across from each other, eating the food she had brought for them and smiling softly at each other. He finished the brew she had brought him, and he did notice a certain clarity of mind that he hadn’t had before.

            “So, what are you and Clemence busy cooking up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

            She gave him a small smile, as if she was happy he seemed more open to her help. “We’re looking up ways to mitigate your symptoms,” she said. “Unfortunately there’s no full cure – well, not except blood magic, but that’s not an option.”

            He almost blanched until she denied that she wouldn’t resort to that. “Promise me, Evelyn,” he said, and she smiled reassuringly.

            “Of course not, love,” she sighed. “But right now all I can do is try to help you with the physical symptoms as much as I can. First Enchanter Gabrielle was doing research into lyrium for Halwell, you know.”

            Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, curious how she knew that. “Is that part of where you’re getting your information from?”

            “Actually, yes,” she smiled at him. “Clemence helped her with her research, and he remembers it. Still, though, it’s limited to just helping pain and symptoms. I’m going to have to keep looking into a cure.”

            “Evelyn, there’s – there’s not going to be a cure,” he muttered, concerned that she was going to get her hopes up. “I can either overcome, or I can’t. That’s all there is to it.”

            She looked at him for a moment and then shook her head. “I refuse to believe there’s not something I can do for you. I’ll find it, love. I have to.”

            “Even if you do, for my – the rest of my life, I’ll have to deal with this,” he said. He wanted to be sure she understood, but he hated trying to make her see the truth of the situation. He just wanted them to be happy.

            Was that too much to ask?

            He was beginning to think it was.

            She simply smiled at him and took another bite of the fruit she was nibbling. “We’ll see,” she said softly.

            Maker, he loved her. Even when she was infuriatingly too good to him.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Hey! Hey, Herald!”

            Evelyn turned to look around the small village for who was calling her, and she saw Varric waving her down. She gave a small smile and approached him, curious to see what he had to say.

            “I understand from Thrask that you went to Kirkwall with Isabela?” he asked when she stopped before him.

            “Yes, I met her in Ostwick.”

            Varric laughed. “That must have been quite the experience, for both of you. I take it she tried to turn you pirate?”

            Evelyn giggled and remembered the way Isabela had taught her to drink and fight, and the random bits of sexual advice she had peppered into conversations as well. “I guess you could say she tried,” she agreed lightly.

            “And how has Curly taken to that little bit of trivia?” he teased.

            She frowned. “Curly?”

            “The Commander, you know – your sweetheart.”

            She giggled. She should have realized who he meant. “Actually I haven’t told him yet.”

            “Is there a reason?”

            She shrugged. “Not really, it just – hasn’t come up yet.” She could feel herself blush as she thought of why. Even now she could still feel her legs shaking a bit and in between her legs aching delightfully from the desperate way they had sought each other out after breakfast. His struggles with lyrium withdrawal were making their reunion even more frenzied, in addition to the years apart. It was like they were still worried they were going to be pulled apart and were trying to make the most of their time together.

            “You know, he talked about you a lot – or at least he did after a few pints,” he chuckled. “It’s nice to finally put a pretty face to a pretty name. It was clear you meant a lot to him, and he certainly was a damn grump without you.”

            Evelyn smiled despite herself, despite how sad it made her to think about him alone all those years. She couldn’t help but think about the now, back together and actually able to love each other in the open.

            “So, kid, how are you holding up?” he asked suddenly. “And I mean really – you don’t need to put on a brave face for me.”

            “I’m – I’m -” she wanted to say she was fine, she wanted to say she was all right and coping. But something about the dwarf made her want to be honest. “I’m struggling.”

            “Honestly, I’d be worried if you weren’t,” he said pointedly. “Listen, kid, I’m a writer, and I’ve written enough tragedies to know how this is going. If I was you, I’d grab Curly and _run_. You two deserve some happiness, and I can’t help but feel like this won’t go well for you.”

            She felt her breath catch in her throat as she realized that she’d been feeling the same way. She needed to stay though. Cullen needed to stay. She was upset that she hadn’t been able to choose her path once again, but she wasn’t going to run now that she was on it.

            She shook her head slowly. “No, Varric – we need to see this through. I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you?”

            He sighed. “Yeah, but I’m not as important as you two. I’m not one of the heroes.”

            “We’ll be fine,” she told him, and she tried to will herself to actually believe her own words.

            She continued her wandering through the village, intending to seek out Clemence or even Thrask, to see if there was something she could do. Besides the war council meetings where she contributed hardly anything, she was beginning to feel useless. If she didn’t have this mark on her hand, she wondered if they would be brushing her aside and treating her as the Commander’s whore, as his camp comfort woman.

            She felt frustrated, especially after Varric’s needling. She knew he meant well, but he had brought up thoughts she was already fighting.

            Why not just run?

            She just wanted to be happy, she just wanted to be with him. They’d been through so much already, this was beginning to feel like torture.

            She hated this, she hated not being able to make her choices again, she hated feeling trapped and bound by duty. All she wanted was a quiet life with her lover.

            Irritation consumed her when she remembered that even if they left they would still be struggling with his withdrawal and the prejudices against their love out in the rest of Thedas. Even if they ran, it wouldn’t be to a happy ending.

            She shook her hands out and realized how positively antsy she felt. She got an idea and headed back to their small cottage to grab what she needed. Surely someone would be willing to be her partner…

            She rushed from the cottage to the training grounds before Haven and looked around the many recruits and Inquisition forces training them. She saw Cullen standing beside Thrask and Rylen, yelling instructions to recruits as needed. But further past them she saw Cassandra sparring with a wooden dummy alone.

            Evelyn wanted good advice and practice, and she walked briskly to where the Seeker was training. “Seeker Pentaghast, I was wondering -”

            “You can call me Cassandra, Herald,” the woman stopped her training and turned to face Evelyn.

            She smiled. “And you can call me Evelyn, Cassandra,” she told the other woman.

            Cassandra simply nodded and waited to see what she wanted.

            “Cassandra, I was wondering if you would help me with some battle tactics? I – I know that I’m a mage, but I’ve thought it a good idea for me to branch out.”

            “You’ve trained in combat?” the Seeker’s eyebrows rose as high as they could. She almost looked impressed.

            “I had some unconventional training, yes,” Evelyn admitted. “I trained with a pirate on my way to Kirkwall.”

            Cassandra stared at her for a moment before she chuckled. “Well then, I insist we train so I can see what bad habits they passed on to you.”

            Evelyn smirked and pulled her daggers from their scabbards, spinning them lightly in her hands before she turned to face the other woman.

            “Try to do your best not to rely on your magic to keep me from beating you,” Cassandra told her with a smirk, and if Evelyn wasn’t mistaken, she was jesting.

            “Joking, Seeker? I didn’t know you had it in you,” she giggled lightly, and she saw a surprised look on the woman’s face. It was unlike Evelyn to mock, and her opponent seemed to realize it was out of character for her.

            Something about the daggers and her training with Isabela just brought out her quiet humor, though, and made her say the things she usually kept to herself.

            Cassandra was relentless, coming after Evelyn with all she had even though they were simply sparring for practice.

            Luckily, Isabela had taught her speed and agility, evasion and grace. And it was suddenly far easier to perform now that she wasn’t on a rocking ship. She almost realized it was incredibly helpful that she had trained on the seas, because now moving on land felt that much easier.

            Evelyn wasn’t aware of the crowd they gathered, she wasn’t aware that most of the recruits in the area were standing and watching them instead of their own practice. She wasn’t aware that Cullen, Thrask, and Rylen were all stopped where they were, staring at them.

            All she was focused on was dodging the other woman’s attacks and trying to get in her own. She had been looking for a challenge, and she had certainly come to the right person. Cassandra seemed slightly flustered by the evasive way Evelyn fought, but her willpower and strength were causing Evelyn plenty of distress so that all she could do was evade and hope for the best.

            In the end, Cassandra only barely beat her.

            “You fight surprisingly well,” the Seeker told her, and held out a hand. Evelyn took it and smiled at her.

            “Thank you, Cassandra,” she panted, still trying to catch her breath. “I appreciate the practice.”

            She stepped back from the other woman and she noticed a tall figure approaching. Cullen was walking swiftly up to her, his face torn between a bemused smile and a frown.

            “When did you learn to fight like that, Evelyn?” he asked.

            “Oh, I um – I haven’t told you the story yet but I went to Kirkwall with one of Hawke’s friends. I think you know Isabela?”

            His eyes widened in surprise. “She taught you to fight?”

            “And a few other things,” she admitted before she meant to.

            He frowned at her, and then suddenly he chuckled. “I’m impressed is all.”

            She smiled, pleased by his response. “I figure it’s a handy skill to have, and I should keep it sharp.”

            “Maybe we should spar sometime,” he mused, and she almost thought he had a suggestive gleam in his eyes as he said it.


	20. The Herald and The Commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have some smut. I've missed these two.
> 
> xx,  
> L

            “You want me to go to the Hinterlands?” she said, thoroughly disbelieving Leliana’s words.

            “Yes. Revered Mother Gisele may be able to help us, and she has requested a meeting with the Herald of Andraste,” the spymaster told her.

            Evelyn looked across the table to Cullen, but was surprised to see that he was nodding thoughtfully. “I thought the Chantry declared us all heretics, why would she want to meet with me?”

            “It seems she is not of the same mind as her fellow Revered Mothers,” Josephine, the Inquisition’s new ambassador, added. She had arrived a few days before, and Evelyn wasn’t yet sure what she made of her. She seemed all sweetness and kind words, but there almost seemed to be a deadly resolve under the honey tone of her voice.

            “And you trust me to represent the Inquisition?” Evelyn asked, looking between the advisors of the war council. She was surprised to be sent like this on what seemed to be such an important mission.

            “Yes,” Cassandra chimed in. “You are the best choice to represent us, Herald.”

            “I – I suppose I will, then,” Evelyn sighed. “When am I leaving?”

            “We will leave in the morning,” Cassandra told her.

            “Inquisition forces are already there trying to gain a foothold, and they will support you to reach the Revered Mother,” Cullen added, referencing a report in front of him. “It seems some of the worst fighting is happening near where the Revered Mother is helping refugees. We will make sure no harm befalls you as you try to reach her.”

            There was an interesting shuffling of the other three women, and Leliana and Cassandra almost seemed like they were trying not to smirk or laugh. Even Josephine bent closer over the wooden board she carried to make notes, and Evelyn realized she had to have already been filled in on the relationship between the Herald and the Commander. Evelyn caught Cullen’s eye and saw that he was smiling, thoroughly unfazed by the reactions of the other three.

            “All right, then,” Evelyn finally agreed. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

            She made her way back to the small cottage to begin to pack, feeling anxious. They were sending her into some of the worst fighting between mages and Templars that had broken out, and even though she was going to have some of their forces with her she was still hesitant. She had been training with Cassandra still and improving, and she had started to go outside of Haven to practice her magic on the dead trees in the area. Still though, she was largely inexperienced in actual combat.

            The idea of having to kill again made her feel sick.

            Or at least, she still assumed she had killed Grayson.

            She shook her head and tried not to think about it, tried not to think about his crumpled form at the base of the wall she had slammed him against. It was bad enough that she kept waking up occasionally from nightmares about her escape, about her actions as she fled the Ostwick Circle. She felt overcome by guilt at times and kept trying not to cry in those moments. She had never thought she would kill another living thing, much less a person. But she needed to be strong, she couldn’t let herself falter now.

            Too much was at stake, and not just for Thedas.

            She worried what would happen with Cullen while she was gone. Over the last few days with her careful tending, he seemed to be getting better. She determined to instruct Clemence and the alchemist Adan to keep an eye on him and continue administering the potions they had been treating him with after she left. She couldn’t stand to think that he would suffer while she was out doing work for the Inquisition.

            Which still surprised her – she hadn’t expected to be sent as the official representative of the Inquisition. She continued to think that her biggest asset to them was the mark on her hand. She hadn’t expected them to want to utilize her in other ways as well. Then again, this was a meeting because of the mark, because it was what made her the Herald of Andraste. She supposed it was still just the mark that they needed after all.

            She finished packing just as the door opened and Cullen walked in, his brows furrowed.

            “Are you all right?” she asked, frowning as well as she took in his expression.

            “Hm?” he looked up, seeming distracted. “Yes, sorry, I’m – I’m worried for you.”

            Despite her own nerves, she smiled. “I’ll be fine, love. I’ll have your forces with me, Leliana’s scouts, and Cassandra. I suppose Varric and Solas being along will help as well. Nothing will happen to me.”

            “I’m worried just the same,” he walked over to where she stood beside the bed and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. “I’ve been getting so many reports out of the Hinterlands it’s hard not to be concerned. I have faith you’ll succeed though. You’ve become so strong, Evelyn.”

            She smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m just determined – I can’t lose you again, and I’m doing everything I can to make sure I don’t.”

            His hands were lightly stroking her waist, and when he heard her soft declaration he grinned and got a gleam in his eyes. “You won’t,” he murmured, and he leaned down to kiss her again. He twisted his mouth against hers and tightened his grip on her waist, backing her into the bed. He pushed her gently down onto it and she giggled.

            “Don’t you have work to be doing, Commander?” she teased softly, but he kept smirking and got on his knees before her as he pulled his gloves off.

            “I can take a short break. This is important too,” he answered, and his voice was low and husky. It sent a shiver through her, and she felt her breath catch when he yanked her toward him by her knees until she fell back. He began to undo the laces of her breeches and tugged them until they were down and he could spread her legs, and he leaned forward over her.

            Cullen held her gaze as his tongue slipped between her wet folds and slowly dragged along the bundle of nerves he knew so well. She cried out and rolled her hips, already desperately wanting more. He was moving so slowly, as if he was torturing her, and she knew he was being intentional in his movements. He always loved to start off by teasing her like this. He slid his tongue flat against her excited pearl for several long moments until she was whimpering, and then he moved lower and slipped it inside of her.

            She cried out his name and arched her back, and he pulled away for a second. “Careful, love, someone outside will hear you,” he murmured, and when she raised her head to look down at him he repeated his action and she moaned loudly. “Or do you want them to hear? We never did get to be loud before.”

            She giggled but her laughter was cut short by him resuming his licking at her pearl, and she swore she was close to falling apart already. He had always been so keen to do this, eagerly lapping at her while he watched her enjoy herself. She twisted one of her hands into his hair, stroking and gently tugging it, her nails scraping on his scalp as she held him to her and slowly rolled her hips.

            He pushed two fingers into her and she cried out again, and she could feel him smirking against her before he doubled the efforts of his tongue and fingers. She was so wet she could feel it dripping onto the bed beneath her, she could feel it on his face as he moved against her. Every movement of his fingers inside of her sent pulses of pleasure through her body, and soon she was whimpering incoherent pleas for him not to stop.

            She fell apart with a loud cry, and realized that there was no way anyone passing by outside wouldn’t know exactly what was going on within their cottage. She realized she wasn’t sure she cared as her back arched and she moaned his name, her limbs quaking and her body convulsing around his fingers.

            He finally lifted his head and grinned down at her, his fingers still moving within her for a moment while he took in the sight of her spent and limp beneath him. He finally removed his fingers when she opened her eyes to look at him, and he reached them up to her. She opened her mouth and he slipped them between her lips and she sucked them as he watched. His brows furrowed, the corner of his mouth tugged up, and he groaned as he took in the sight of her licking her juices off of his fingers.

            He pulled his fingers from her mouth and sat back, quickly undoing his breeches. “Maker, Evelyn,” he breathed, sounding desperate. “I was just going to please you but – please, love, roll over.”

            She bit her lip and flipped over on the bed so that she was positioned over its edge. She loved it when he acted like he couldn’t help himself. She felt so desired, so thrilled that he was driven wild by her. It reminded her of all of their stolen nights together in Ostwick, when nearly every night had been filled with passionate desperation. She felt him stand behind her and press himself to her wet entrance, easily sliding inside of her.

            They moaned together, and he held onto her hips as he started thrusting. She could tell just how aroused he’d gotten because his every movement was fast and hard, trying to go as deep as he could within her as he groaned. The sound of their hips colliding filled the cottage, and Evelyn buried her face in the bed beneath her to try to muffle her moans and cries.

            He didn’t even have to ask if she was close, he just reached a hand around to the front of her and slid his finger along her excited pearl until she gasped his name. She felt herself fall apart, pushed over the edge again by his touch, and he jerked his hips against hers in a more sporadic rhythm as he finished with her. Somehow, they almost always finished together, their bodies feeling perfectly in sync with each other as they both found ecstasy.

            Cullen slowed finally but still held himself within her while he took deep, steadying breaths. “I – Maker’s breath, I keep forgetting to ask if you’re back on witherstalk,” he said suddenly.

            She giggled breathlessly. “As soon as I was headed to Kirkwall. Isabela had quite the supply and actually gave me enough to get me here. And the Inquisition also has a fairly good stock, I must say.”

            He chuckled and ran his hands over her hips and rear for a moment before he finally pulled himself from her and began to redo his breeches. She felt his release sliding down her thighs as she stood up and she relished in the feeling as she tried to readjust her own armor.

            “I just keep getting so lost in having you back,” he shook his head. “I should have thought to be more careful.”

            She reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck. “Don’t worry about it, love,” she murmured and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I took care of it so that we could get lost in each other. I missed you too much to let worries like that get in the way.”

            He grinned at her and kissed her forehead. “You’re perfect, as always. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

            “I’ll miss you too, especially after this,” she giggled. “But I’ll be back soon.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The days passed quickly, whereas he had thought they would drag by without her. Instead, he was so busy organizing the Inquisition’s forces and training the new recruits with Rylen and Thrask that his days passed in a blur. His nights were when things finally slowed, but he was still taking the sleeping draught to prevent his night terrors and so he didn’t even fully have time to miss her then either.

            He did miss her, he just managed to keep himself occupied enough that he couldn’t focus on worrying whether or not she was safe. He received word when she had arrived at the Hinterlands, and then when she had met with the Revered Mother. She sent a letter after that, and he found himself glad he was so busy because she was extending her time in the Hinterlands.

 

_Cullen,_

_I know that all of the reports said that the fighting was awful, but nothing they said prepared me for just how chaotic things are. We made it to Mother Gisele without too much trouble, but the state of the entire area is dire._

_I can’t leave things like this, love. The people are suffering, innocents are getting caught up in the fighting. They’ve been pushed from their homes. They’ve been killed. Most of them have lost everything, including family. I met an elven woman whose husband was killed while he was working in their fields because the Templars thought he was holding a staff. It was a hoe, because he was a farmer. It’s like everyone has gone mad, and I can’t fully comprehend how this happened._

_I suppose I forget sometimes that not all mages and Templars are like you and I, or like how we were. The atrocities that I’ve seen in the last few days… I hate to see where the Rebellion has gotten us. In the end I supported freedom for the mages, but Maker – not like this._

_I’ve been trying to help the refugees in the area, I’ve put the Inquisition forces to work helping and protecting the people. I think it’s helping make a good name for us, which Cassandra seems incredibly pleased about. She keeps deferring to my judgments, which I find strange. I assumed that she was the one making the decisions for the Inquisition, I thought that was why she came with me._

_I never expected this level of responsibility, and I don’t think I really wanted it. But if the decisions are going to be left up to me right now, we’re going to do what we can to help the people in this area. I can’t leave them all like this and just head back to Haven. Mother Gisele thinks we should go to Val Royeaux to speak to the Chantry, but right now the people need us. Forget the clerics and their grandstanding, they can wait. What matters right now is helping protect these poor innocents trapped in the middle of something they had nothing to do with._

_I’ve included a map for you, and I need your help. I’m trying to acquire the horses you mentioned in your last report from Master Dennet, but he won’t help us until the farmlands are secure. I’ve taken care of a few of the issues, including a few nearby rifts, but they need some watch towers in the area to help them see danger coming. Can you send forces to help construct them? I think it would be helpful to have the Inquisition carry out this task, to prove to the people (and Dennet) that we’re a force for good, for restoring order. That we have everyone’s best intentions at our core._

_I miss you terribly, and I wouldn’t even dream of extending my time here if it wasn’t the right thing to do. I almost wish you could have come along. Maybe in the future, if I have to come out and do this again, which at this point is seeming likely. I heard the scouts talking about other rifts in other areas. It never ends, it seems._

_I’ll write you again soon. In the meantime, just know that I’m staying safe and I love you. I’ll be back to you when my work here is done. Until then, I’ll be busy saving Thedas so that we can have our future together when this is all over._

_Love always,_

_Evelyn_

 

            Cullen read through the letter and smiled, admiring the firm determination he could see in her words. It was fascinating to him to know that buried under all of the sweet hesitancy and trepidation of the young woman he’d known at Ostwick was this tremendous strength and resolve. He reread her letter and almost felt his heart racing a little as he thought about just how much he loved her.

            But then he got up from his desk in their cottage and hurried to the war room to begin planning the watch towers. He needed to do his part to ensure their future as well.


	21. Perfection

            Warmth pulled him out of his sleep, and for a moment he simply enjoyed the feeling. It was soothing, comforting, and then he realized that it was someone in his arms.

            He blinked his eyes and lifted his head, but the scent of rain filled his nostrils and he smiled to himself. Evelyn was curled up in his arms, and he pulled her closer as if he could draw her into his chest and hold her to his heart.

            She must have arrived after he had fallen asleep. They didn’t expect her until the next day, and he vaguely wondered if she had pushed her companions to return sooner. Her last letter had made her sound like she was strained, as if everything that had happened in the Hinterlands was weighing on her heavily.

            He was amazed that she hadn’t awoken him, but he was more than happy to wake up with her back in his arms. It had been a long few weeks, and though he had kept himself busy and the sleeping draughts had helped him through the lonely nights, he had still missed her dearly. After their reunion, it had felt too soon to send her away for so long, especially since he had been sending her into danger.

            The pre-dawn light was glinting off her hair, almost blue-green through the darkness. He reached up and brushed a few stray strands off her face, smiling as he took in the sight of her peaceful in her sleep. Every time he woke up to see her beside him, every time he saw the sight of her, his heart felt full to bursting.

            It had been so many years of misery when they were apart. Even in the midst of all of this darkness and chaos in Thedas, right now – he looked at her and he felt like he was home. Waking up with her in his arms, watching her vulnerable and trusting in her sleep, and getting to actually hold her all night instead of having to help her sneak back to her quarters were proof to him of how far they had come and how much had changed.

            Maker but he loved her. He couldn’t imagine his life without her, and he thought of the terror he felt when he thought about how he could lose her, about how dangerous her work was with the Inquisition. He wasn’t certain that he trusted that everything would turn out all right; he was constantly fearful for her. He was constantly worried that somehow, he was still going to lose her.

            He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, trying to banish the thought that something could happen to her. He stroked her cheek, and snuggled closer to her, still holding his lips to her forehead. She stirred against him, one of her hands moving along the pillow to press to his chest before it slid up his neck.

            Cullen pulled back and looked down at her, watching as she slowly blinked open her eyes and tried to adjust to being awake.

            “Welcome home,” he murmured when she raised her bleary gaze to his. “When did you get back?”

            “Late,” she whispered. “I – we were already so close to Haven I convinced them to continue on so that we could actually sleep in beds.”

            “I’m glad you’re home, safe and sound,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her hair. “I missed you.”

            “I missed you too,” her fingers stroked his neck where they were resting. “I – it was horrible.”

            It was a soft admission, a quiet confession that he knew she never would have vocalized to anyone else.

            “Are you all right?”

            She sighed, and after a moment she shook her head and a few tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes. “Cullen, the fighting – it’s horrible. I – I had to – I had to kill -”

            Her voice broke and she moved closer, snuggling against the crook of his neck. Tightening his arms around her, he twisted his hand into her hair and lightly shushed her, muttering comforting words against the top of her head. For a long time he simply held her to him, letting her ease the emotions she was feeling, soothing her troubles with soft words and tender caresses.

            “Evelyn, I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. “I’m sorry we had to send you there, that we had to ask that of you -”

            “When will we ever get to just _be_?” she cried. “I’m so tired, I’m so tired of hurting and being unsure. I just – I just want a life with you, I want to be happy. I want to run away somewhere, and have babies and just – _peace_ , with you by my side.”

            He squeezed her more tightly, until he felt like he was crushing her in his strong arms. She was so delicate and small compared to him, and when he held her like this he felt the urge to protect her from all of the problems of Thedas. He wished there was more he could do, more ways he could shelter her.

            He wanted those things too. The thought had crossed his mind more than once to go somewhere, just the two of them, away from the madness and chaos. His heart warmed to know that she felt the same, that she thought of a family and a life. Part of him had doubted, but the rest of him had known, had been able to tell –they were together again, this time forever. Anything they faced now was going to be handled side by side, as they worked toward the future they had both never expected to have.

            But duty and their better nature was currently keeping them from that.

            “Evelyn,” he murmured against her forehead. “We’ll have that, someday. I promise you, we will. But right now -”

            “Right now we have to fix Thedas,” she gritted out. She sounded angry, in a way she never had in the years past. “Yet another thing keeping us from living our life. I just – I know we have to,” she sighed, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t be frustrated about it, love.”

            “I know,” he nuzzled her hair. “I know. I am too, believe me. I got you back, only to have all of Thedas on the verge of collapse. Believe me, love, I’m – I’m struggling with it as well.”

            She craned her neck and peered up at him, and he tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I love you,” she told him. “I missed you, so much.”

            “I missed you, too,” he told her. He brushed her hair behind her ear, still smiling softly down at her. The look of love in her clear eyes suddenly brought attention to his hardened length when he felt it throb between them.

            They were both naked, and he pressed his lips to her forehead again as he snuggled her closer to him. She let out a muffled gasp as she felt him push himself against her and a soft giggle escaped her throat.

            “I can tell you did,” she sighed happily, forgetting her tears and melancholy for a moment.

            “It’s been too long, just looking at you is driving me wild, but feeling you in my arms again,” he brushed his lips against hers, unable to describe the ecstasy he felt. “We still have plenty of time before we need to get up.”

            She moaned softly as he slipped a hand between them, and she rolled and pulled him with her until he was on top of her. His mouth crushed against hers, unable to tease her any longer and just wanting to taste and feel every inch of her. After weeks apart he couldn’t hold back, and his hands were trailing over her skin, leaving red marks to evidence their passing. Her nails dug into his hips, encouraging him closer to her, and he eagerly sought out his place between her legs.

            The moment that he thrust into her, all of his worries slipped away. They moved desperately against one another, making up for the weeks they were apart and trying to assure one another that they were together, that nothing was coming between them. He pushed her thighs back on either side of her chest so that he could go deep, rolling his hips and watching her face as she cried out his name.

            He’d missed that sound even more than he realized, and he felt himself already close to losing himself within her. Keeping his pace steady he reached a hand to her small pearl and began stroking her, trying to push her to the edge so that they could finish together.

            “Evelyn – Maker I missed being inside you,” he groaned, arching his neck and closing his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her clenching around him, the telltale sign of her orgasm.

            “I missed it too,” she moaned. “Oh love – Cullen -”

            The rest of what she was saying was cut off in a loud cry as she arched off the bed, rocking against him as she nearly screamed his name. He jerked his hips into hers and groaned loudly as he found his own release within her, giving no thought to who they might be waking up with their overdue reunion.

            He finally stilled and tried to catch his breath, softly stroking her thighs as he steadied himself.

            “Is the sun up yet?” she asked breathlessly, and he looked down to see that her eyes were closed, her skin dewy with sweat.

            “No, it’s not,” he answered, and he quirked a brow when she giggled and smiled.

            “Then we still have plenty of time,” she said, and she opened her eyes to hold his gaze, a twinkle in her lightning eyes.

            Maker, this woman was perfection, and he still marveled that he could call her his.


	22. Val Royeaux

            “Why don’t you come with me?”

            “What?”

            “Herald, I’m not sure -”

            “I just mean – besides having a Seeker and the Right Hand of the Divine with me, what if I also have a Templar?” Evelyn pointed out, gesturing at Cullen as she looked at the advisors before her. Cullen opened his mouth to protest and she nodded, adding, “Former Templar, yes. But we have Thrask and Rylen as well, we have loyal Templars in our ranks. And a former Templar is our Commander. If we have you with us when we speak to the Chantry, maybe they won’t be so quick to declare us heretics or dismiss us.”

            “Having a mage and a Templar as well as the Seeker,” Josephine paused, looking as if she was thinking. “It could work.”

            “It could show a united front, don’t you think?” Evelyn mused. “They’ve been quick to brand me a heretic, since I’m a mage, especially because of the rumors circulating about how and why I fled Ostwick. If we show them that it’s not just a mage -”

            “But former members of their loyal Order,” Leliana nodded slowly. “I think it’s an excellent idea, if you insist on going in the first place. A united front is what we want to put forward, since we want to show that we are trying to stabilize and fix Thedas.”

            “What of the fact that you two are lovers? The rumors have already reached Val Royeaux, I’m certain of it,” Cassandra interrupted. “If Chancellor Roderick knows -”

            “Then everyone is certain to know,” Cullen sighed, rubbing his temples.

            Evelyn frowned, recognizing the beginning signs of one of his headaches. She had been wondering if the potions she had Clemence giving him while she was gone were beginning to lessen in effectiveness, and she sighed a little to see that she was maybe correct.

            “We could always declare that to be slander,” Josephine shrugged.

            “No, I’d rather not lie about it,” Evelyn countered quickly, causing Cassandra and Leliana to smirk at her. Across the table Cullen gave her a small grin and she winked at him. “I just mean – we shouldn’t declare something that’s true to be slander, it will hurt us in the end. Either we should pointedly ignore the rumors, or address them head on.”

            “And say what, that the Inquisition is being led by two former lovers who broke Chantry laws to be together at Ostwick? That our Commander was sent to Kirkwall as punishment because of it, where he later betrayed his Knight-Commander to support the beginning of the mage rebellion?” Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “The Clerics would love that.”

            “You’re right, that does sound bad. I just – I still don’t think lying about it is the correct path,” Evelyn shrugged and folded her arms, staring at the map on the table as she thought.

            “If we ignore the rumors, we leave them open to getting worse,” Josephine pointed out.

            “Can we – can we get back to the topic at hand?” Cullen cut in, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword. He almost looked like he was blushing, and she realized he was uncomfortable with the discussion of their relationship. They were both still trying to adjust to being so public, after years of hiding and being apart.

            “We are talking about the topic at hand, Commander,” Leliana chuckled. “Sending you with her to Val Royeaux is one course of action, but we need to decide how to handle the rumors – excuse me, the _reality_ of your relationship.”

            “We could say that it is a new relationship,” Josephine suggested. “That you were so taken with her after seeing her stabilize the Breach -”

            “Do you know how many soldiers saw us kiss beneath the rift at the forward camp? No, we’re not lying,” Evelyn shook her head.

            Cullen chafed and groaned, again raising a hand to his forehead to rub it. “Is it really necessary to say anything? Right now the rumors are that we’re together – I say we don’t address them at all. It’s no one’s business but Evelyn’s and mine.”

            “And everyone who sleeps near your cottage,” Leliana quipped softly, smirking like she couldn’t resist.

            “Maker’s breath,” Cullen groaned. “I think you addressing the Chantry at all is a mistake, that we shouldn't waste our time on the Chantry while it bickers. But I think my going to Val Royeaux with you is a bigger mistake, Evelyn. They’ll – they’ll say that you’ve bewitched me, that you’re a blood mage, that you have me in thrall. I think you should go alone.”

            “Surely they won’t think that,” Evelyn shook her head. “We need a chance to show them that we’re a force for good, that we’re varied but united -”

            “He makes a valid point, although I think that just makes me want him to accompany us even more,” Cassandra mused. “If they see you there, maybe that will put the rumors that she has you under some spell to rest. They’ll see how you act -”

            “Exactly. Maybe it will help put some of the worst rumors to rest,” Josephine hurried to agree. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

            Cullen heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I see I’m outnumbered. Very well, I’ll go with you.”

            Evelyn smiled at him, and he continued to shake his head but gave her a small grin, as if he was looking forward to it despite himself. “We’ll set out in the morning.”

 

 

 

 

            “Hush, Evelyn, you need to be quieter,” he breathed against her lips, but he continued thrusting just as hard and fast into her as he placed a hand over her mouth. He smirked above her, as if he was thoroughly enjoying watching her struggle to muffle her noises. As embarrassed as he had seemed when Leliana teased him about their noise, he didn’t seem to actually want to attempt to be quieter.

            Still, she was trying her best since they were in camp and not their cottage in Haven. After how long she had been in the Hinterlands it still felt like heaven to feel him within her again, though. He pressed his forehead against hers as she dug her nails into his hips, and he began whispering soft words of love to her as she tried to stifle her whimpered responses.

            When she fell apart he replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing her deeply as he rolled his hips and eagerly sought his own release. He stilled and buried his face against her neck, both of them panting as they tried to regain their senses.

            “Camp is definitely better with you here,” she murmured after several minutes of silence. “I wish you could come with me always.”

            He chuckled and nibbled her shoulder where he was resting his lips. “I’d like that too, love,” he sighed. “Unfortunately there’s too much to do.”

            “Maybe, maybe not. Who’s to say you can’t run the Inquisition from the field?”

            He shook his head and then raised it so that he could peer down into her eyes. “Love -”

            “I know, I know,” she pouted. “I just – I’m sorry. I’m still disappointed, I’m angry. I got you back, and now all of this…I just want time together. I just want you and no one else. Let’s run away, to the mountains. We’ll start a farm. You can herd druffalo, I’ll learn to cook -”

            “Evelyn, my love, we can’t,” he sighed. When she pouted again he leaned down and kissed her deeply before he pulled away once more, stroking her hair off of her face as he held her gaze. “Don’t worry, we’ll succeed. We’ll close the Breach and restore order, and then we can retire. We’ll go somewhere – maybe by the sea? I know we both always loved seeing the sea from the Ostwick Circle.”

            “What about settling near your family? I know you haven’t seen your siblings in years,” she murmured. “Mia must be worried, have you written her?”

            “No, I – I haven’t,” he confessed.

            She giggled. “That’s just like you. You never told her you got sent to Kirkwall, did you? How long did it take her to track you down?”

            “A year,” he muttered, looking away from her inquisitive stare.

            “Poor Mia,” she sighed and reached up to kiss his cheek.

            “You still haven’t spoken to your father, Evelyn,” he pointed out. When he saw her look away and frown he shook his head and heaved a deep sigh. “We should go to sleep, love. We reach Val Royeaux tomorrow, and who knows what could happen.”

            “I suppose,” she agreed softly.

            He kissed her forehead and pulled himself from her, rolling to his side to snuggle her against him, his arm wrapped tightly around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he gave a soft sigh of contentment as he lay back to find his slumber. The three days they had been on the road so far had brought no nightmares, and she found herself hoping that tonight was the same.

            The next morning when they entered Val Royeaux, they did it side by side, and she brushed her hand against his when no one was looking. She saw him smirk, but she could tell he was looking around for potential threats, one hand on his sword and the other hanging loose but ready by his side. He was walking stiffly, standing straight, and she knew he was trying to look the part of the Commander.

            All she could think about when she looked at him, though, was the playful, passionate kiss he had stolen from her before they broke down their camp that morning. She cleared her throat and tried to refocus herself, looking away from him so as not to get distracted. Glancing to her side she saw Thrask also scouting the surroundings, his jaw set and determined. On his other side was Cassandra, and the muscles in her cheek were flexing as she marched purposefully ahead.

            They all looked ready for the worst, and it did little to help Evelyn’s own nerves.

            She was about to confront the Chantry, a group that was calling her a heretic, that was calling for her judgment and execution. A group that was deriding her escape from Ostwick as dangerous and her relationship with Cullen as manipulation and coercive.

            Evelyn swallowed hard and raised her nose slightly in the air, her chin lifted in her own determination.

            Let them say it, let them call her a heretic, let them slander her to her face. Let them say she had bewitched him, that she had killed all of those at the Conclave.

            She knew the truth, and she wouldn’t let them get under her skin.

            As they passed, some of the townsfolk backed away, whispering to each other, some even turning and fleeing the area.

            “I don’t think it’s escaped their notice that we’re here,” Cullen sighed beside her.

            “So it would seem,” Thrask muttered from her other side.

            “My lady Herald!” a voice cried out, and she turned to see one of Leliana’s scouts approaching. “The Chantry mothers await you, but so do a great many Templars.”

            “The Templars are here?” Cassandra said, surprised.

            “Perhaps they have rejoined the Chantry?” Thrask looked to Cullen, raising an eyebrow.

            “From the reports I’ve received, I wouldn’t count on it,” Cullen scowled.

            “People seem to think the Templars will protect them from – from the Inquisition,” the scout said, sounding slightly hesitant. “They’re gathered on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you.”

            Evelyn sighed, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head in exasperation.

            “Only one thing to do then,” Cassandra sighed.

            “Yes, we should see what they intend,” Thrask nodded. Again he glanced at Cullen, and Evelyn marveled at the way the older Templar continued to follow Cullen’s lead. It said a great deal about how much he respected the Commander, and Evelyn felt her heart swell with pride for her love.

            “They intend to protect the people from us?” Cassandra said.

            “The people may just be assuming what the Templars will do,” the scout shrugged. “I’ve heard of no concrete plans.”

            “Perhaps – the Templars think they need to deal with, um, ‘heretics’ such as ourselves?” Thrask pondered.

            “That doesn’t sound like something the Order would concern itself with right now,” Cullen mused, and Evelyn saw him frowning deeply. “They broke away from the Chantry to hunt mages. Evelyn, I – I would be careful.”

            “He is right, Herald,” Cassandra nodded as they continued on their way. “I know Lord Seeker Lucius, I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense. Not after everything that has happened.”

            Cullen sighed and turned to face the scout. “Return to Haven. Someone will need to report to them if we are, um, _delayed_ ,” he ordered her. He turned back and caught Evelyn’s eye and shook his head. “Maker’s breath, love, what have we gotten ourselves into?”

            “It will be fine,” she assured him, but she clenched her hands into fists to hide how they were shaking. “They wouldn’t dare – they wouldn’t dream…we’ll be fine.”

            They held each other’s gaze for a moment before they both sighed and looked away, steadying themselves to continue to the market. A dais was set up before a gate, and several Revered Mothers and Templars were standing on it and before it, and they glared at the four approaching them.

            Evelyn took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She hadn’t expected such a public reception.

            “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” one of the Revered Mothers stepped forward. “Together we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste!”

            Beside her she felt Cullen shift on his feet, and she heard the soft creak of his leather glove as he tightened his hold on his sword’s pommel. She wanted to reach over and reassure him, but she knew too many eyes were on them.

            “Claiming to rise where our beloved fell!” the Revered Mother continued. “We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no _mage_ in our hour of need!”

            Evelyn chafed, even though the words were not wholly unexpected. She knew it was one of the biggest points against her, but it wasn’t like she had chosen this.

            _All I’d wanted was to find him, to be with him_ , she thought bitterly. _I never asked for any of this._

            “I never claimed to be,” Evelyn said, feeling all of the eyes in the market upon her. “I wasn’t sent by Andraste or the Maker, all I intend is to close the Breach. It threatens us all.”

            She felt Cullen shift slightly at her words, and she remembered what he had said. He believed she was sent by the Maker – although he believed she was sent to him in answer of his prayers to find her alive and well again. She wondered if he was thinking about how it might affect the Inquisition to have her denounce her possible divine providence so publicly.

            It was too late to take it back, though.

            “It is true!” Cassandra chimed in, looking around the market square. “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

            “We only seek allies to close the Breach, this madness has already gone on for too long -” Cullen began to say, but he trailed off as another group of Templars approached from the right. “That’s – the Lord Seeker -” he muttered under his breath to Evelyn.

            “It is already too late!” the Revered Mother said. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition’ and the people will be safe once more!”

            One of the Templars following the Lord Seeker stopped before the Revered Mother on the dais, and abruptly his fist lashed out and hit the woman across the face. Everyone in the crowd around them cried out, and Evelyn took a step forward, her jaw dropping in her indignation. Whether or not she’d been aggravated by the Revered Mother, the man’s actions still shocked her. Instinctively she readied herself to use her magic, wondering what the Templars had in store for them. Beside her Cullen half-drew his sword, and he seemed stunned into silence.

            “Still yourself,” Lucius said as he approached one of the Templars on the dais. “She is beneath us.”

            “How dare you?” Cullen finally said, stepping forward and staring between Lucius and the Revered Mother.

            Lucius gave him a sideways glance before looking away, as if he didn’t think he was worth the time of day.

            “Are we supposed to be impressed?” Evelyn called out, unable to resist. Cullen turned and shot her a glare but she continued to stare up at the dais, confused by what she was seeing.

            Templars, striking Revered Mothers?

            Thedas really was in utter chaos.

            “Her claim to authority is an insult,” Lucius replied without looking at Evelyn. “Much like your own.”

            “We came seeking aid to close the Breach,” Cullen interjected.

            “Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imperative that we speak with -” Cassandra began.

            “You will _not_ address me,” Lucius cut in, his tone venomous and final.

            Cullen and Cassandra shared a look, both seeming confused.

            “A Seeker who has strayed from the Chantry and her purpose, and a Templar and Knight-Captain who betrayed their Knight-Commander to take her title?” Lucius sneered, and he looked over Cullen, Cassandra, and Thrask. “I will not waste my time with the likes of either of you, especially not in the presence of this heretic, this _mage_ you’re so willing to defend.”

            “Lord – Lord Seeker?” Cassandra said haltingly.

            “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet?” Lucius spat. “You should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!”

            “You’re wrong!” Cullen declared, taking a step forward and glaring at Lucius. “The Templars failed everyone when they broke off to do so. Our jobs as Templars were to protect, to defend. Not to purge mages, not to slaughter innocents as you have. What you have done is wrong, can you not see that? With the Breach looming as a threat over all of Thedas, all of us -”

            “Enough! You will not address me!” Lucius spat again. “You are the ones who have failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is _mine_.”

            “What?” Cullen almost staggered back, staring at the Lord Seeker as if he couldn’t comprehend his words.

            Evelyn looked at him for a moment before she stepped forward. “Templars, one of your own leads the Inquisition’s forces, many of your fellows have joined our ranks,” she pointed out, looking around at all of the Templars standing around the Lord Seeker. “Follow their lead. Join us as we try to restore order, as we work _together_ to try to defeat the threats that endanger us all. Join us as Cullen did, as Thrask and others did, and help us fight to protect Thedas!”

            Cullen glanced at her and then nodded, stepping forward again as if emboldened by her supportive words. “If you wish to fulfill your vows, and your duties, join us! We intend to protect the innocent, to restore order, to seek out _harmful_ magic where it arises and defend Thedas from the looming threat of the Breach,” he called, looking at the Templars before him. “Please, join us, brother and sisters. We are fighting for what is right, what is good. We are fighting for the Maker, and the one He sent to us in our time of need.”

            Evelyn tried to hide her frown, she tried to hide the way she wanted to glare at him for declaring her holy and divine again. She wanted allies, she wanted any and all the help they could get, and so she let Cullen imply her divinity, biting her tongue as she resisted correcting him.

            “Lord Seeker,” one of the Templars stepped forward, frowning. It was the Templar he had addressed on the dais, and he looked disquieted. “Surely the Commander is not lying. Surely they mean to close the Breach -”

            “Do you dare question me?” Lucius turned a deep scowl to him. “You know this man disobeyed his Knight-Commander’s orders and supported the mage rebellion at its start, that he sided with the apostate Hawke and slaughtered his fellow Templars as well as his Knight-Commander?”

            “Ser, Knight-Commander Meredith was -”

            “This man is clearly under the sway of this _apostate_ ,” the Lord Seeker interrupted. “Can you not see the influence she has? The power she holds over him? Can you not spot magic when it is before you, Templar?”

            The Templar looked between Cullen and Evelyn, frowning. “He – Lord Seeker, I see no proof -”

            “Proof? What proof do you need? This heretic will stoop as low as she can to -”

            “But Lord Seeker what if she was sent by the Maker, and Andraste, what if she is the one to help us in these troubled times?”

            “Do you dare question me?” Lucius nearly shrieked again as he turned to the questioning Templar.

            “You are called to a higher purpose, do not question,” the Templar behind him, the one who had punched the Revered Mother, said.

            “I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void. We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition less than nothing,” the Lord Seeker sneered. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

            Many of the Templars turned to follow, but a few stayed fixated, staring at Evelyn and Cullen.

            Cullen took another step forward, as if seeing his opportunity. “Templars, there is another way. You can remain loyal to your vows and join the Inquisition. We seek order in the chaos, a chance to help the people. A chance to protect. Join the Inquisition and the Herald as we face the real problems plaguing all of Thedas. Join us as others have.”

            For a moment, the Templars who stood staring at them hesitated. But they looked at the retreating forms of their fellow Templars, and then at each other, and they nodded amongst themselves. The Templar who had questioned the Lord Seeker stepped forward, and the others followed.

            Cullen took a few steps forward as well to meet them, Thrask following close behind.

            “Do you really think you can close the Breach and restore order?” the questioning Templar asked.

            “We intend to do whatever we can to do so,” Cullen assured him. “The Herald has the ability, but we need allies. We need good men.”

            The Templars looked between each other and then nodded again.

            “We will join,” the questioning Templar said.

            Cullen held his hand out to him, and they clasped each other’s forearms in agreement. “What is your name?”

            “Ser Barris, Commander,” the Templar answered.

            “Welcome to the Inquisition, Ser Barris.”

            Evelyn and the others stepped forward as well, nodding and greeting the Templars who were joining them. There were four of them, but it was four more allies than they had had before.

            “At least some of them saw reason,” Cullen murmured as they turned to walk away.

            “What about the Lord Seeker?” she asked. “That seemed -”

            “Maker I have no idea,” he shook his head, looking around as if exasperated.

            “Cassandra, how well do you know the Lord Seeker?”

            “Well enough to know that he is a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding,” Cassandra sighed.

            “Well, looks like we won’t be getting the Templars to help after all,” Evelyn sighed.

            “I wouldn’t write them off so easily,” Cassandra mused.

            “A few have already seen through his lies, Evelyn,” Cullen pointed out. “Perhaps more will as well.”

            “If I might have a moment of your time,” a voice said from behind them.

            They all turned, and Evelyn frowned. An elf, a mage, was standing before them, looking over their group.

            “Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra asked.

            “Aren’t you the leader of the mage rebellion? Should you really be here?” Thrask asked.

            “I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes,” Fiona replied. She looked Evelyn over and then held her gaze, taking in her lightning eyes for a moment before she continued. “If it’s help you want with the Breach, perhaps you should look to your fellow mages.”

            “That would have been my first choice if you’d been willing to speak with us,” Evelyn said, more firmly and with more irritation than she meant to. She was beginning to feel like she was getting a headache, just from sheer frustration.

            “We’re willing now, that should be all that matters,” Fiona replied smoothly. “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe. Come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my lady Herald.”

            Fiona gave a half-bow and turned to walk away, leaving the small group staring after her. Evelyn folded her arms and arched her neck, closing her eyes as she tried to take a deep breath to ease her frustration.

            “That was – suspicious,” Cullen said softly. “Love, I don’t think that we should -”

            “Can we talk about this back at Haven?” Evelyn murmured. “I think I’m beginning to get a headache. The sooner we head back, the better.”

            A messenger began to approach, and an arrow tied with a red scarf landed beside Evelyn.

            She groaned, throwing her head back on her shoulders again. It looked like she had a bit more business to attend to in Val Royeaux, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because saving Ser Barris should have been an option.


	23. Never-Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the change in formatting - I'll be going back soon and editing/fixing the earlier chapters. Whyyyyyy tabbed paragraphs? Haha whoops.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

_Come to the Chantry, you’re in terrible danger._

Evelyn stared down at the note, her heart racing uncomfortably. It was obvious that she was in danger, that much was plain as day.

Tevinter, beating her to Redcliffe, taking over the Mage Rebellion – and how was it the rifts outside the village were shifting time around them?

Taking a deep breath she crumpled the note in her hand and looked around. Cassandra was standing near her, frowning as she observed the crowds in the tavern.

“It could be a trap,” Evelyn murmured before she sighed.

“It could very well be,” Cassandra agreed.

“Still, I think it’s worth investigating,” Evelyn said, and she took another steadying breath. As she began to walk through the tavern, though, a sudden, familiar voice called out to her.

“Well, if it isn’t _Lady Templar Toy_ ,” the voice jeered, and Evelyn’s heart jumped uncomfortably at the tone.

She turned and for a moment simply stared, her brows furrowed as she tried to remember the name. The face was so familiar, but after all – when was the last time she’d actually spoken to anyone at Ostwick? For years, she’d simply ignored everyone around her. Everyone except the Tranquil, all things considered after Cullen had been sent away.

“Surprising to see you here,” the woman continued, her lip curling as she looked Evelyn up and down. She had short, dark hair, and her face seemed twisted in a permanent scowl. “Didn’t you run off instead of joining the Rebellion? I’d expect to see you sitting at the feet of some Templar master, letting him pull your hair and choke you with his -”

“Linnea, wasn’t it?” Evelyn interrupted, clenching her fists as she tried to steady her voice.

“And it’s _m’lady_ Trevelyan, actually deigning to speak with me for once,” Linnea sneered. “You’ve come far from being the Knight-Captains’s little whore.”

“You’re as spiteful and jealous as ever,” Evelyn returned, folding her arms as she glared at the other woman. “Interesting to hear you speak of masters when you’re selling yourself to Tevinter, as I’ve heard.”

“The Imperium does things differently,” Linnea scoffed. “Mages aren’t feared there, they aren’t caged and turned into Templars’ playthings, their _whores_ in order to survive -”

“You listened to Grayson far too much,” Evelyn cut in, her tone jagged like a knife. “Were you sweet on him, perhaps? Willing to believe every evil word about me after I rejected him, so that you could simper at him, comfort him while he continued to lust after me -”

“It wasn’t enough you had the Knight-Captain wrapped around your little finger, you had to have everyone else too?” Linnea spat, her expression turning even sourer. “Half the Circle was in love with you, the First Enchanter worshipped the ground you walked on – and you may have fooled them all with your little innocent act, but you didn’t fool _me_.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow and stared at the other woman for a moment. “My act?” she repeated incredulously. “I apologize if keeping to myself and not letting every man in the Circle into my bed confused you -”

“Not let every man into your bed?” Linnea jeered. “That’s rich coming from a Templar’s whore – how many more did you manipulate and scheme to -”

“I don’t have time for this,” Evelyn gritted out and turned away from the other woman. “If you had anything of import to say to me, that would be different. But if you just want to dredge up the old taunts – good day.”

“If only Grayson were here to see what you’ve become.”

Evelyn stopped dead in her tracks, her heart racing even faster. Cassandra was staring at her, Varric and her newest recruit, the Qunari Iron Bull, were both frowning as they regarded her and took in her stunned reaction.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to fight the way she was shaking in response to Linnea’s taunting.

_She focused and the Mind Blast radiated from her, and he flew back – with a sickening crunch, thud, he hit the wall, high above the ground. He hit his back, his mousy brown hair flying around his head as he slammed against the stone before he slid – unconscious and unmoving to the ground._

_Was he dead?_

_She never thought to check._

_Good riddance, Cullen said when she told him._

_About damn time, she thought, as she stared at his still form._

_I hated him – did I mean to kill him?_

_Was I just waiting for my chance?_

_Seizing an opportunity?_

“What do you mean?” she asked after several moments of silence, folding her arms tight across her chest but not turning back around.

“Last I heard, he was dead.”

“The last you heard?” Evelyn repeated, spinning to face the other woman. “You don’t – you don’t know?”

Linnea almost smirked, as if she was enjoying Evelyn’s obvious discomfiture at the news. “Someone attacked him, while we were all trying to escape,” Linnea said, her voice like poisoned honey. “I was trying to escape an overzealous Templar – I don’t know what happened to him exactly, but I heard he’s dead.”

Evelyn’s heart hammered against her ribs, stuttering in its pace and so loud it was almost drowning out the noise of the tavern around her.

_I heard he’s dead._

_He’s dead._

_Someone attacked him._

“A lot of people are dead, after what the rebels did,” Evelyn finally said after a few moments.

“Spoken like a true Chantry-parroting, Templar’s whore,” Linnea derided.

_How did he take you?_

_Did you suck him in the library?_

_If you let a Templar between your legs, how could you refuse me?_

_Did he force you, or catch you practicing blood magic? Is that why you let him fuck you?_

The taunting came back to her suddenly until her mouth was dry and her hands shook.

“Farewell, Linnea – I hope you enjoy your time in slavery,” Evelyn sneered, and she turned and hurried away from the other woman. She wouldn’t let the woman drag her back into conversation, wouldn’t let her distract her by bringing up the horrible memories of Ostwick.

_Cullen is waiting for you back at Haven – waiting patiently, because he loves you._

_You’re not his whore._

_You’re not anyone’s whore._

_There’s never been anyone else – and there was only ever him because you love him, and he loves you._

_Not to trade favors, or manipulate._

_Because you belong with one another – that’s all._

Hurrying out of the tavern, she stalled along the path to the Chantry and put her hands on her hips, exhaling sharply.

“Are you all right?” Cassandra asked, and Evelyn was surprised by the amount of concern in the woman’s voice.

“I’m – I’ll be fine,” Evelyn grumbled. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, Seeker.”

Her teeth were still clenching, her cheeks flexed and taut.

Would she ever get away from those taunts, from the way everyone wanted to cheapen the love she had with Cullen?

It seemed not – she couldn’t escape the past, and now her present was tainted as well, since news of she and Cullen had spread to the Chantry.

_Templar’s whore._

“I am not,” she muttered to herself, and she saw Varric glance sideways at her.

Gritting her teeth she continued on the path up to the Chantry, balling and then releasing her fists again and again as she hurried up the steps.

_When will this ever end?_

She paused before the Chantry doors and took another steadying breath, a sharp frown coming across her face when she stopped to listen.

It almost sounded like – battle?

Glancing at Cassandra, she held the Seeker’s gaze for a moment before they nodded at one another and pushed open the doors.

Immediately green light filled her vision, and the sound and feeling of magic came to her across the large sanctuary of the Chantry.

A man with dark hair and a mustache was engaged in battle with a shade, and as Evelyn and the others hurried forward he managed to defeat it with one last blast of ice from his staff.

Upon hearing their footsteps he turned, and after giving Evelyn a quick but thorough once over he smiled. “Ah good, you’re finally here! Now help me close this, would you?”

Evelyn quirked an eyebrow, intending to ask who he was, but the rift above them shifted and popped off energy and she readied her staff instead.

The terror demons that fell to the floor of the Chantry unfurled themselves to their substantial heights, and Evelyn threw her shimmering barrier around her allies as they prepared themselves.

“Thank you, my dear – that’s incredibly polite of you,” the strange man called to her as he began twirling his staff and directing its icy bolts at the demons now charging them.

Evelyn sent chains of her lightning through the battle, watching as it bounced between the demons and paralyzed them so that her allies could attack. Even with the relatively new addition of Iron Bull, they had perfected their battle rhythm over their weeks together, and the strange mage fit in easily as he hurled ice and dark spirit energy at their opponents. Any demon that came near to Evelyn was stunned by a bolt of lightning which called itself to defend her, giving her time to run and position herself further away before she attacked.

During a lull in the battle, as Cassandra took on the last of the demons that had appeared, Evelyn charged forward and threw her marked palm into the air. She focused, feeling the energy channel through her as she pictured turning a key – just as she had every time before when she closed a rift. At the same moment that the last demon was felled the rift gave one last spark of energy and then finally closed.

The stranger paced slightly, staring up at where the rift had been before he turned to face the four who had fought beside him. He held Evelyn’s gaze for a moment, looking as if he was taking her in and thinking. “Fascinating,” he finally said. “How does it work exactly?”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow and considered for a moment, but before she could answer the man before her chuckled.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he shook his head and shrugged, sounding incredulous. “You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.”

“Who are you?” Evelyn asked, unable to think of a response to explain this – this _mark_ – on her palm.

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see,” the man answered, and he gave a dashing smile. He bowed slightly as he introduced himself, “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

Despite herself and how her day was going, Evelyn smiled. There was a warmth in the man’s eyes, a good-natured spirit in the way the corners of his mouth tugged up. She opened her mouth to reply, but a deep voice cut in from behind her.

“Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst,” the baritone of her new Qunari bodyguard sounded.

“Suspicious friends you have here,” Dorian quipped, but something shifted in the way he smiled.

“I’m Evelyn Trevelyan,” she greeted him, inclining her head slightly. “What is it you're doing here?”

“Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable – as I’m sure you can imagine,” Dorian informed her.

“I – I was expecting Felix, he slipped me a -” Evelyn glanced around, realizing she didn’t see Alexius’ son anywhere.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Dorian answered smoothly. “He was to give you the note, and then meet us here after ditching his father.”

“He seemed – ill, is something the matter with him?” Evelyn asked, frowning as she remembered the way Alexius had raced to his son’s side.

“He’s had some lingering illness for months,” Dorian sighed. “Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen, most likely.”

“Felix was just to give me the note? So are you the one who sent it, then?” Evelyn demanded, tightening her hand on her staff. She was on edge, the entire day – from the moment they arrived in Redcliffe until now – weighing heavily on her.

“I am,” Dorian nodded his head. “Someone had to warn you, after all. Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note.”

“Yes, it was,” Evelyn agreed, raising an eyebrow as she took in the intense, concerned look on Dorian’s face.

He seemed to actually mean it, to actually care.

And yet he was from Tevinter, and the Magister had once been his mentor.

“Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you,” Dorian continued. “As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

For a moment Evelyn simple stared at the man in front of her, and then she shook her head. “I’ve never heard of magic that controls time, it – it isn’t possible.”

“And yet,” Dorian held his hands out and shrugged. “The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down.”

Evelyn held his warm gaze and then slowly nodded. “The one outside the gates, as well -”

“Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Recliffe,” Dorian told her. “The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

_It just can’t be easy, can it?_

At this point, it was like a cruel joke from the Maker, the list of things that continued to stand in the way of her happiness.

_I just wanted to find him._

_I just wanted to be free, I just wanted to love him._

_I do – I love him. What others see as shameful, what others deride and jeer at –_

_It’s all I want._

_Nothing more._

“What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it?” Dorian’s voice cut into her musings. “Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them,” a voice answers from behind them, and Evelyn turned to see Felix approaching.

“Took you long enough,” Dorian smiled. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card,” Felix shook his head as he stopped before them. “I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.”

He turned to face Evelyn, an intense, urgent look in his eyes. “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori.’ And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

“Me?” Evelyn asked, raising her eyebrows, feeling slightly stunned. “Why would he distort time and rush here to claim the Mage Rebellion just to get to me?”

Beside her Cassandra shifted, and Evelyn could tell the other woman had tensed.

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why,” Felix answered with a small shrug. “Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

Instinctively Evelyn clenched her left fist, thinking of the mark that was there.

This mark – this brand.

She hated it.

“You can close the rifts. Maybe there’s a connection? Or they see you as a threat?” Dorian speculated.

Felix sighed and looked between Evelyn and Dorian. “If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky – they’re even worse than I thought.”

Evelyn felt her fingernails digging sharply into her palms as she absorbed everything she was being told. Tevinter cultists, time magic, and an obsession with her?

_Cullen certainly won’t like the sound of any of that._

“Well – I guess we should find out why they’re so obsessed with me,” she sighed finally, shaking her head and rubbing her forehead with her thin fingers.

_What I wouldn’t give for one of the poultices or potions I make for Cullen, right now._

_Or better yet – his strong arms around me, telling me we’ll make it._

“You know you’re his target,” Dorian pointed out. “Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe, Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.”

“You’re leaving?” Evelyn asked, frowning and taking a small step forward. “I still have questions, I -”

“As I said, I’ll be in touch,” he smirked, and gave her a small wink. “Oh and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.”

With that Dorian turned and began to walk away, toward the back door of the Chantry so that he could slip out.

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” Felix called after him. He looked down at Evelyn and nodded briefly at her before he turned and quickly began to make his way out of the Chantry as well.

“We should head back as soon as we can,” Cassandra suggested. “The others will want to know – we need to figure out how to handle this.”

“Tevinter and time magic,” Varric groused, shaking his head as he slung Bianca over his shoulder. “Curly will love that.”

Evelyn heaved a sigh and tightened her grip on her staff, apprehension flooding her. Before she had left to accept Fiona’s invitation to meet in Redcliffe, she had promised Cullen they would investigate and reach out to the Templars. He was probably coordinating now, trying to find a way to get them to speak with the Inquistion, so that they could contact them when she returned.

_You take care of the Templars, love – but please, I have to see. I have to try to negotiate with the mages._

_I have to see if I can salvage them, save them – we could use them._

Now, though, all she knew was the way her stomach was twisting, the way she was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth until it ached.

Tevinter and the Venatori complicated matters, and she knew now that no matter what they had to be stopped. Even if it meant going back on the plans she had discussed with Cullen before she came to Redcliffe.

Rubbing her forehead once more, she smirked slightly as she realized she must look just like he did when he rubbed his in exasperation.

“You’re right, we should head back,” she finally agreed, and turned to lead the way out of the Chantry.

It was several days back to Haven – and all she could think was how much she wished he’d been able to come here with her. Between being confronted with her past and the revelations about the Mage Rebellion, she felt incredible impatience course through her.

She needed her love – and couldn’t get back to him quickly enough.


	24. Keeping Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading Miss Grey as well you already saw this art, but I've realized I've never shared the art I have of Evelyn on any of my stories, so here you go! Evelyn as done by the wonderful [@kawereen](http://kawereen.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
>  

The pre-dawn light tinged everything slightly green, softly blue and white as it poured through the cabin’s window. Evelyn’s hair always shone deep blue-black in this light, and for a few moments he simply stared at it, taking in the sight of it spread on the pillow behind her.

For years he hadn’t been able to enjoy the sight of her sleeping beside him, but now he could savor it. She had gotten back the day before, and even though she had brought bad news and they had argued in the war room, at present he merely wanted to watch her sleep.

Every time she came home now he found himself saying prayers of thanks to the Maker, more grateful than words that she had made it back to him safely. Even if they disagreed, even if they were both stressed, he wanted more than anything to have her near him, in his arms and his bed.

He thought about their reunion the night before, the way he had pinned her to their bed and taken her. There was so much sentiment behind each time now – reunion, joy, keen desperation – and he relished every moment of it. They were familiar with one another, but still getting reacquainted.

He couldn’t get enough of it, or her.

But he lay watching her breathing deeply in her sleep and he sighed, realizing she was likely tired and in need of more rest. He tempered his desire to wake her with sweet kisses, to spend his morning drinking in the sight of her lightning eyes becoming dusky with lust, and instead he pushed himself into a sitting position.

The potions she had concocted for him were still working, his night terrors and headaches lessened a great deal than they were before. Still, though, his anxiety kept him awake, sleep difficult to find when he laid down and also to stay asleep as soon as the sun began rising. It was better than it had been, but still he found himself tired and lackluster throughout the day because of how he only slept a few hours.

With a sigh he clambered out of their bed and stretched once his feet hit the cold wooden floor. He could let her sleep longer while he got ready for the day.

If anyone deserved the rest, it was her.

Plus, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her. She had one arm bent and tucked under the pillow, the other hand clutching the sheets up to her chin. Her long eyelashes were resting on her pale skin, her full lips slightly parted as her breath sounded softly through them.

No, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t disturb her.

After watching her sleep for a few moments more he began to move around the cabin, pulling on a pair of his breeches before he walked to the small washbasin on a table by the wall. He had hung a mirror above it, and he opened a drawer and removed his soap and straight razor.

Domestic.

They were positively domestic now.

He grinned as he thought it, as he lathered his soap and covered his chin and neck with it.

How far had they come now since Ostwick, living together like this so openly, without fear or shame?

Now she slept in his bed and he didn’t find himself worrying about needing to wake her so that she could avoid detection sneaking out. Instead he wanted her to keep sleeping, to get more rest before the stresses of the day got to her.

He wished there was more he could do besides let her sleep and try to organize the Inquisition’s forces. If only he could he would take away the pain and frustration she was feeling, the stress it was evident she was suffering from, which was obviously increasing every time she came back to Haven.

Until he could figure out more ways to help her though, he would just have to settle for jealously guarding her sleeping in.

“You’re up early, love,” a sleepy murmur came from the bed, and he turned, the razor poised on his neck as he took in the sight of her. She was fluttering her eyelashes, rubbing her cheeks under her eyes before she yawned and arched her back. “Somewhere important to be?”

“Training, meetings – nothing out of the ordinary,” he sighed and turned back to face the mirror so he could continue shaving.

She gave an affirmative hum and then he heard the bed creak as if she was pushing herself off of it. After a moment he felt her presence beside him and glanced down. She was pulling his shirt over her head and it tousled her hair, making her look more adorably sleepy and disheveled than she had looked in bed.

Without saying anything she pulled the chair from the desk and took her seat in it near him, pulling her legs into her chest and staring at him as he continued shaving.

“You look handsome doing that,” she murmured. And when he glanced sidelong at her he realized her pale eyes were wide, staring and taking in every movement he made as he dragged the razor over his skin.

He smirked and returned his gaze to the mirror, still intent on shaving. “How many times have you seen me do this, love?”

“Doesn’t matter – I could watch you do it a thousand more times,” she sighed almost wistfully. “I remember then, the way you looked in your quarters, so much younger and more carefree. Setting out for a day of patrols after spending all night making love to me.”

“We – we were both so naïve, then,” he muttered through tight lips, focusing with the razor on his top lip.

“We were,” she agreed softly. “Sometimes I wish we could go back to that, instead of how things are now. Getting caught by Halwell seems a breeze compared to this, the end of the world…”

Her voice trailed off and he glanced her way again to see her frowning at the ground, her chin still resting on her knees, her arms tight around her legs. He could tell just looking at her that she was struggling under the weight of her burdens, the weight of all of Thedas on her shoulders.

“Oh, come now, dearest,” he told her, forcing a small laugh. “It isn’t all so bad. We’re closer to getting help to close the Breach.”

“Are we?” she asked, her pale eyes glancing up and searching his. “You – you still think we should reach out to the Templars?”

“I think it is worth trying to contact the Order, to see – see if we can change their mind,” he answered solemnly. His gaze remained on his reflection in the mirror, still slowly and carefully dragging the razor over his skin.

At least this morning his hands weren’t shaking.

Silence fell between them for a moment before she heaved a soft sigh.

“We can’t leave the rebel mages in the hands of the Imperium,” she murmured. “I – I have to go back to Redcliffe. I can’t – I won’t be able to sleep at night if I allow them to – if I do nothing. Surely you understand that, love.”

He was silent for a moment as he rinsed the razor off in the washbasin before he replaced it on his cheek to shave another spot. “I understand,” he said finally. “It’s the same way I feel about the Order.”

“Perhaps – I mean – we have enough resources, we can focus on both,” she pointed out, but her voice sounded tentative and hesitant, like she was scared to suggest it. “I have to go back. But you – you could go to Therinfal, you could reach out to the Order.”

“They want to meet with the Herald – with you,” he told her, frowning as he said it. To be honest, their insistence to meet with only the Herald worried him. Then again, it was the same report coming out of Redcliffe.

He didn’t like it.

“We can send you in my stead,” she suggested. “You are still the Commander of the Inquisition – you can negotiate for us.”

“Still – sending you to Redcliffe alone,” he shook his head and rinsed the razor off one last time. “I do not like it, Evelyn. I – I should go with you -”

“No,” she stated firmly, and he looked to see her shaking her head adamantly where it rested on her knees. “I need you to seek out the Templars. I will be fine, really.”

“But -”

“Please, love,” she raised her gaze to his, and something almost like pain shone in the lightning depths. “Maybe – maybe if we have both, maybe if we close the Breach we can move on with our lives.”

Tears were swimming in her eyes, her voice cracking as she spoke. The stress that was evident in her words tore through him, and he quickly wiped the remaining soap off of his face with a cloth before he crossed to where she sat.

“Evelyn, love,” he told her, falling to his knees before her. “We’ll get through this.”

“I know – you keep saying that,” she murmured. “But I’m – I’m so tired. I just want to be done.”

“I know you do,” he whispered, and he pulled her into his arms and held her against his bare chest. “I know you do, love.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be – I sound so obnoxious,” she giggled, rubbing her forehead against the soft dusting of hair on his chest. “I just can’t believe how much has happened, how much stands in our way. I want this to be over with.”

“It will be,” he assured her. “We’ll make it through, and get to our life raising babies and druffalo.”

“Even if the babies are mages?” she whispered.

“I’ll love them no matter what,” he answered without hesitation. “Because they will be _ours_. I remember a time when a family with you was just a hopeless, painful daydream, but now – we’ll get it, my love. I promise you.”

Silence fell for a moment and then she nodded once more. “All right, darling,” she sighed. “I believe you.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and then pushed herself out of the chair, moving to the bed to pull the sheets up. Watching her move around the cabin, thinking of her stress and despair, overwhelmed him with a desire to make it up to her and comfort her.

He stood and walked swiftly to where she stood beside the bed, pulling her back against him, his hands holding her upper arms.

“Cullen -”

“I missed you, dearest,” he purred in her ear. He slid his hands down her sides and gripped the bottom of the shirt she was wearing, slowly pulling it off her. “Get back on the bed.”

Evelyn giggled softly and lay back on the bed, staring up at him with her eyes full of lust. It was his favorite sight, the way her eyelids fluttered, her lips parted and glistening, her limbs spread eagerly waiting for him to take his place in her arms.

He slipped out of his breeches and crawled onto the bed, stretching over her and covering her lips quickly with a kiss. She moaned when he cupped one of her breasts with his large hand, caressing her until she was left gasping. When he slid his hand between her legs, he broke the kiss to hold her gaze.

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, watching as she gasped in response to him slipping two fingers within her. “If I could, I’d keep you in this bed all day, taking you as many times as I wanted until you couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“Cullen,” she moaned, her hands clutching his shoulders as she arched off the bed, her limbs quaking slightly as he swirled his thumb over her pearl. “T-take me, please. I want you, love, love -”

Her pleas trailed off into soft whimpers, and he watched her for a moment longer before he withdrew his hand and grasped her hips, easily rolling her to her stomach. She giggled breathlessly and pushed herself to her knees and elbows, and he took his place behind her.

Sheathing himself within her he pressed himself to her back, one arm reaching around the front of her to hold her tightly to him. He moved slowly, intently, ensuring that she could savor every one of his thrusts, every inch of him pushing deeper into her.

He peppered her back and neck with kisses, still holding himself close over her as he rolled his hips into hers. Each of his movements caused a soft cry or moan to escape her lips, her hands twisting in the sheets beneath her. When she began to flutter around him he reached with a hand to gently stroke the bundle of nerves that would push her over the edge.

She cried out and eagerly rolled her hips back to meet his, but he kept his pace steady and continued thrusting deeply, intent on making her fall apart. A sob of his name echoed through the room as she shuddered beneath him, and he felt her throb around him as she came undone.

He watched her writhe and snapped his hips against hers a few more times before he groaned loudly, his vision going blank as he found his own release. They finally collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily and thoroughly spent, Cullen lying on top of her still holding her tight against him.

“I wish we could stay in bed all day,” she murmured, and she heaved a sigh.

“We could, just this once,” he suggested, trailing his lips down the back of her neck and inhaling the scent of rain and sex that filled his senses.

But she shook her head, the movement languid in her exhaustion. “No, we should get to work, if we’re going to try to reach out to both parties…the Breach isn’t going to fix itself.”


End file.
